Found
by irishchic799
Summary: Sequel to "Taken" How will Reid cope with the aftermath of his kidnap and torture at the hands of Philip Dowd's half-brother? Will he make it through or did the team get there to late? Also some Henry recovery thrown in but not much.
1. Chapter 1

The occupants of the ambulance were greeted by a few doctors and nurses and the tearful but smiling faces of JJ, Will, and Garcia.

Morgan handed an ecstatic Henry to his mother and father before hopping out of the ambulance himself so the medical personnel could extract Reid from the ambulance.

As the parents cuddled, hugged, and kissed their son, the doctors and nurses rushed Spencer Reid off into the hospital.

After a nurse lead the LaMontagne family to an exam room to check the child for injuries or illness.

Morgan and Garcia were shown to the waiting room by a volunteer. Morgan sat waiting for the rest of his team to get there, fidgeting the entire time while Garcia was calmer, a huge smile on her face and world in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Girl," Morgan assured the technical analyst, "Henry is fine and Reid will be too."

Half an hour later, Will came out and told them Henry was absolutely fine. There was a bruise from where someone had grabbed the toddler hard but other than that, he was unharmed. He said that the doctors were keeping him overnight for observation but that he could go home in the morning.

After another forty-five minutes, the rest of the team arrived. Morgan gave them the news about Henry and told them there still was no news on Reid.

Shortly after the team got there, a nurse came to the waiting room.

"Spencer Reid?" she called. The entire team stood up and the nurse looked slightly surprised.

"Are any of you relatives?" she asked.

"No, but I have medical power of attorney for him," Hotch informed the nurse.

"Well, I suppose it's alright," she muttered. Clearing her throat she said, "Follow me. The doctor has news about Spencer's condition but it is best if it's given in private."

The whole team started to follow her but she stopped them saying, "I can only give information to family members or those who have legal standing to hear such information."

"They are his family," Hotch told the woman. She opened her mouth to rebut the statement but when she saw the looks on their faces, she could tell that these people all loved the young man in her care.

The nurse led them to an empty waiting room. Hotch asked the nurse if she could find the mother of Henry LaMontagne, that she should be here too. The nurse obliged and soon a worried looking JJ entered the room, followed by a tall man in a white coat.

"You're Spencer Reid's family?" he said skeptically. Hotch gave him a hard look, nodding definitively. He sighed but gave them the rundown of their friend and colleague's condition.

"Your friend is very injured. He has cuts on his chest and abdomen as well as on the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet. One of his fingernails has been removed. He has three broken ribs, a broken nose, a broken forearm, and a broken shin. He has some deep bruises on his face and abdomen but thankfully no internal bleeding. Right now, he is in surgery, having the bones in his arm and leg set and pins placed."

"But he is going to be ok, right?" JJ asked softly.

"Yes," the doctor said hesitantly. "Physically, he will be fine."

"What do you mean, physically?" Morgan said in a low voice.

The doctor drew in a breath and braced himself for the reactions of the people before him.

"Spencer has been…raped," the doctor said softly. "There is rectal tearing and there was some fluid left behind. We took a swab of it for DNA."

"We already know who did it, but thank you," Hotch managed to say.

"If you don't have any questions…" the doctor trailed off. "I'll find you the moment he is out of surgery."

"Doctor," Hotch said, "Are any of those cuts going to scar?"

"They might," the ER doctor responded. "None of them are very deep and they were very clean cuts which lessens the likelihood of scarring but it is still possible."

"I want you to get the best plastic surgeon in the state to make sure there is not one single scar on him," Hotch demanded.

"Sir," the doctor said, "I know that you care about your friend but I can't just get the best plastic surgeon to come look at him because you asked."

"With all due respect," Hotch said harshly, "do you have any idea who he is, what he does, or what put him in this condition?"

The doctor shook his head so Hotch continued.

"His name is Dr. Spencer Reid. He is an FBI profiler. He has either helped find or found dozens upon dozens of serial rapists, killers, and kidnappers. He and his godson were kidnapped and he was tortured for five and a half days by a psychopathic sexual sadist. Three years ago, he was kidnapped and tortured by a serial killer for two days. He already has enough scars; he doesn't need any more."

The doctor gulped and nodded, saying he would call about it right away before quickly exiting the room.

Now that the team was alone and had had time to process what they had heard, they reacted.

Hotch looked angry and slightly sick at the thought of what his youngest agent had endured.

Garcia's knees had given out and she was sitting in a chair, sobbing into Emily's shoulder. Emily simply looked like she didn't believe any of this was happening.

Rossi's face was blank but you could see pain in his eyes at his colleague's suffering.

JJ was standing, mouth slightly agape, tears running unchecked down her checks.

The most violent reaction was, unsurprisingly, Morgan's. His face was blank with shock for a moment before rage overtook his expression. He turned and punched a wall, swearing loudly.

Garcia, Emily, and JJ jumped.

"Sorry," Morgan whispered, dropping into a chair and cradling his hand that was red and starting to swell.

"Let's go get someone to look at it," Hotch suggested in a tone that said Morgan had no choice.

Morgan silently followed his boss to the nurse's station. Neither man said a word to each other.

Once a nurse had led the two agents to a room and left to get a doctor, Hotch spoke.

"I know how much you care about Reid, Morgan," he began, "and I know how close to home this is hitting you. But Reid is going to need you. I can't have you doing any more crazy things like punching walls."

"I sold that sick son of a bitch the house, Hotch," Morgan said, guilt lacing his voice. "I sold him the place where he tortured and raped my best friend and held another friend's baby hostage. I showed him exactly where to keep Reid and Henry so no one would see or hear them."

"Listen to me, Derek," Hotch said in a firm voice. "None of this is your fault. You had no way of knowing who or what this man was. If you hadn't sold him a house, someone else would have."

"I should have called him," Morgan moaned. "I didn't call him once in four days. I was too caught up in seeing my mom and my sisters and I didn't call my best friend the one time he needed me more than ever."

"Neither did I!" Hotch exploded. "If Jack hadn't wanted to see Henry yesterday, I wouldn't have even thought to call him. Does that make it my fault too? What about Rossi, Prentiss, and Garcia? They never called. We all care about Reid but none of us called him when he need us. It's not our fault though, just like it isn't yours. It is Harold Michaels' fault. He is the one who attacked Reid and then kidnapped him and Henry. He is the one who tortured and raped Reid. He is the one who planned this all out. Not you or anyone else; him!"

"I-" Morgan started weakly, "I know that, in my head, but I still feel so guilty. I was off having a blast seeing my family while my best friend was being tortured."

"We all feel that way, Morgan," Hotch told the other man gently. "But we need to get over it because right now, Reid is going to need us."

At that moment, someone came to take Morgan for an x-ray of his hand and their conversation ended.

Hotch returned to the waiting room to see everyone sitting down. JJ was still there and just as Hotch walked in and sat down, she said something.

"I thought he was joking around with me," she whispered, pain clear in her voice. "I called him when Will and I got to Cancun and again the next morning. He didn't answer but I thought he was trying to be funny. Before we left, he told me that he didn't want me to call him because Will and I needed some alone time away from work and Henry after…everything that's happened. When he didn't pick up, I thought he was messing around with me."

A fresh wave of tears cascaded down her pale face and Hotch put a comforting hand on hers.

"I can't believe everything he went through, everything he suffered, just for my baby," she whispered, almost to herself. "I was on the beach while he and my son were in a torture chamber. If I hadn't been so stupid and realized he would never not answer my calls when he was watching Henry…" she broke off, a small sob escaping her lips.

"It's not your fault. You couldn't have known what was happening. Reid loves Henry, JJ," Rossi told the distraught blonde quietly. "He would do anything to protect him."

Morgan returned to the room a short while later with some tape around his knuckles and a subdued expression on his face.

No one said anything more until the doctor returned with the news that Reid was out of surgery and was in room 427.

They all immediately rushed to the fourth floor. When they reached the room, a nurse was waiting outside told them that they could go in but only one at a time. JJ stepped forward immediately and no one questioned it.

The young blonde mother opened the door and entered the room of the man who saved her son's life, nearly losing his in the process.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey Spence," JJ whispered to the man in the bed.

"JJ," he croaked. "JJ, I am so sorry."

Jennifer Jareau was confused. "Spencer, what are you talking about?"

"JJ," Reid whispered emotion thick in his voice, "I tried; I really did. I tried so hard but he was stronger. He knocked me out and took us. But I didn't let him touch Henry, JJ, I didn't," the broken man on the bed said urgently.

JJ understood now. He thought that she was going to blame him for Henry's kidnapping.

"Oh, Spence," she said, tears forming in her eyes for what felt like the millionth time since she got that terrifying phone call from Hotch, "it's not your fault."

"But it is!" he cried in a rasp. "He attacked me and I wasn't strong enough or quick enough to take him down. He didn't even have a gun. Henry could have been hurt and I just let it happen!"

JJ was alarmed at how guilty Reid obviously felt. She had to let him know that he wasn't guilty, that he was a hero who had saved the most precious thing in the world to her.

"Spencer Reid, you listen to me," she said in her best 'mom' voice. He looked up at her face (which he had been avoiding until now. "It is NOT your fault. You saved my baby from being hurt by letting that sick jackass torture you! You are a hero and I can never thank you enough for what you sacrificed to protect Henry."

"But I let him knock me out," Reid said softly. "He attacked me in the kitchen and I tackled him and got away with Henry but when I was trying to get my gun, he came in and knocked me out. I should have been quicker with my gun. I shouldn't have been so weak."

"Spence," JJ said in a gentle voice, "if I had been the one who got kidnapped with Henry because I couldn't get my gun out fast enough, would you blame me?"

"No!" he almost shouted and then winced as his throat (which was bruised from almost being strangled to death) twinged painfully. "Of course I wouldn't. You would have done everything in your power to keep Henry safe."

"Didn't you?" she asked rhetorically. "You said that he attacked you in the kitchen but you tackled him back and got away. I never would have been able to attack him and get away. I saw a picture of him on Garcia's computer. He was huge. Morgan would have had a hard time getting away from someone that muscular.

"Don't blame yourself, Spence," JJ said, sitting on the bed next to her friend. She took his hand in hers and ran the other over his hair. "You let yourself be tortured and ra-raped to protect a child that wasn't even your own. You are stronger than anyone I have ever known. Stop blaming yourself because it is not your fault."

Spencer didn't answer right away. "I-I'll try, JJ," he eventually answered.

He knew it was stupid but he had hoped that no one would find out about him being raped. He didn't want anyone to know how he had been violated and emasculated. He didn't want his friends looking at him with pity or like he was less of a man because of what Philip Dowd's brother had done to him.

"The others want to come in to see you," she said softly. "I'm going to leave now but Will and I will come back tomorrow with Henry. He's been asking for you since they took you to get treated. He keeps calling you ''uper 'pesser.' He says you're a super hero because you protected him from the bad guy," she smiled slightly.

Spencer laughed weakly and hugged JJ when she put her arms around the skinny savior.

Moments after she left, Prentiss came in. She didn't stay long. She didn't say much, just that she was so glad that they were ok.

Spencer didn't tell her that he never thought he would be ok again.

After she left, Rossi came in. He only stayed for a couple minutes. He didn't say much. He told Reid how sorry he was that this had happened to which the younger agent mumbled that it wasn't his fault. There was an awkward silence before Rossi told Reid to get some rest and left.

When Rossi left, Garcia took his place.

"Oh, my little genius," she sobbed, hugging him gently. "Oh, honey."

That's all she could get out. She was crying much too hard for any other words to form on her lips. She only stayed long enough to give him a kiss on the forehead before she left the room, still in tears.

Two minutes later, Hotch came into the room.

"Reid," the older agent said quietly. "I- I'm so glad that you are alr-" he stopped.

'Stupid,' he thought. 'The kid has been held hostage, tortured, and raped for five and a half days. Of course he isn't alright.'

"I'm glad we found you," Hotch amended quickly. "It would have been like losing a family member if we hadn't."

"Thanks, Hotch," Reid said softly. "That really means a lot."

Hotch took a deep breath in and blew it out forcefully before sitting down in a chair across from the bed.

"I don't think I could have handled losing someone else close to me so soon after Haley," he whispered shakily. This uncharacteristic display of vulnerability startled and disconcerted Reid.

"Don't think you're getting rid of me that easily," Reid joked weakly.

Hotch laughed slightly, more out of relief and nervousness than humor.

The men sat in silence for a few moments before Hotch spoke again.

"Reid," Hotch began, "Spencer, I want you to know that, well, I am here for you for whatever I need and I am sure the rest of the team feels the same. We all care about you and want to help you in any way we can."

"Thanks, Hotch," Reid mumbled. He was quiet for a moment before he asked, "Do you think someone could run by my apartment and get me some books to read?"

"Of course," Hotch responded at once. "Anything in particular?"

"Um, bottom shelf of the bookcase on the right side of my TV," Reid requested.

"Which ones?" Hotch asked.

"All of them," Reid replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Hotch smiled.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Hotch left.

Reid was getting very tired by this point and closed his eyes for a second before he heard a soft knock. He opened his eyes to see Morgan standing in the doorway.

"Mind if I come in, kid?" he asked lightly but with a sad undertone.

"No," Reid murmured. "Come on in."

He entered and took the chair Hotch had occupied moments before. He didn't say anything, just looked at his friend long and hard. Reid looked down, feeling somewhat awkward at all the attention.

"Quit it," he finally mumbled at his hands.

Morgan laughed, trying to sound happy and carefree but failing miserably.

"Sorry, Pretty Boy," he responded.

They didn't talk. Eventually Reid's eyes slipped closed again and he fell into a restless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Less than an hour after Reid fell asleep, the plastic surgeon Hotch had demanded arrived.

"Could you excuse us for a few minutes, sir?" he asked Morgan.

"Sure," he replied. "I'm going to go get some coffee, kid. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Reid nodded at his friend and then turned to face the doctor standing next to his bed.

"My name is Dr. Curtis Elmoore. I'm here to look at your cuts and stitch them up for you," the doctor informed his patient.

"They weren't stitched up already?" Reid asked.

"No," Dr. Elmoore answered. "If it has been more than a few hours since the laceration occurred, it is procedure that the patient be given antibiotics before the cut is stitched closed. While they were treating you and placing the surgical pins, you received a course of strong antibiotics so now I can stitch up any lacerations that need it.

"If it's ok with you, I am going to examine you."

Spencer Reid agreed and the doctor proceeded to look at the younger man's chest and abdomen. After he finished, he moved onto his patient's hands.

He looked at the unbroken arm first. After he had carefully examined each finger on that hand, he moved to the other hand. He gently removed the elastic bandage that was acting as a makeshift cast that allowed his surgical incision to be checked for infection from the young man's arm and pulled back the gauze that made up the rest of the soft cast.

The doctor gave Spencer's feet the same look over before telling him his opinion.

"Thankfully," he began, "these lacerations had clean edges and none of them were very deep. The sealer used on them help allow them to begin healing correctly. Since they are all superficial, I am recommending the use of liquid sealant for all but a few of the deepest cuts on your stomach, which I will stitch up in a few moments. You're lucky that the cuts weren't deeper or we would be facing much serious problems than scarring."

Anger welled up in his stomach at the man's words and, before he could stop himself said coldly, "I was kidnapped and held hostage for over five days while being tortured by a psychopath who used my godson, who he also kidnapped, to manipulate me into letting him mutilate me however he wanted because it got him off. Lucky isn't exactly how I would describe it," he finished acidly.

"I-I-,""the man stuttered, a look of horror on his face. "I didn't mean- I just meant- I- If the cuts had been much deeper, muscle and tendons could have been cut which would have meant possible irreparable damage and loss of function as well as guaranteed scarring. I didn't mean-," the man dropped off, looking ill.

Spencer sighed and looked down, ashamed at his outburst.

"I know, Dr. Elmoore. I'm sorry for snapping," he apologized softly.

The man stood, silent, for a moment before leaving the room. He returned shortly with the supplies to numb, clean, and suture the man's injuries. He didn't say anything other than what pertained to what he was doing, too mortified at his own thoughtlessness and stupidity to even look his patient in the eyes.

As soon as the doctor finished and left the hospital room, Morgan appeared a cup of coffee in one hand and a Jell-O cup in the other.

"Hope you like green, Kid," he said as he handed it to his friend.

"Can I eat this?" Reid asked.

"Yep," the uninjured man replied. "I asked your nurse before I went to get my coffee. She said it was fine as long as you felt up to it."

He sat down in the recliner he had previously occupied and sipped his coffee. He watched his fellow FBI profiler curl his hand around the spoon slowly, so as not to cause his hands any more pain from the cuts running the length of each finger.

After the kid had eaten about half of the Jell-O, he looked to his friend and asked, "Why are you still here?"

Morgan furrowed his brow and replied, "If you don't want me here, Reid, I can leave."

"No, no," Spencer Reid responded quickly, "I just meant that its late and visiting hours are over. I was wondering why you stayed and how you got them to let you."

"Oh," Morgan said, feeling a little foolish. "You're my best friend. Of course I am going to stay when you are in the hospital. Haven't I always before? And I just told the nurse that I thought you might need a friendly face around. It's not that hard to guess what happened to you based on your injuries, Reid," he told the younger man softly. "She just told me that she would bring me a blanket and a pillow when she came to check on you next."

"You don't have to stay, Morgan," Reid said. "I'm fine."

"Nuh uh, Pretty Boy," Morgan said. "I'm not leaving."

Reid didn't have any response to this so he just continued eating his Jell-O.

After the two men had sat silently in each other's company for a while, Morgan began to look like he was itching to ask a question.

"If you want to ask something, ask," Reid told his friend.

"I-, How are you doing?" Morgan asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Reid insisted.

"Don't give me that, man," Morgan said, raising his voice the slightest bit in agitation. "You were held captive for five and a half days. You aren't fine."

"How do you know if I am fine or not?" Reid responded, irritation in his voice. "You've never been kidnapped, held hostage, and tortured, have you?"

"No," Morgan conceded, "I haven't. But I have been raped before, Reid. I know what that feels like. I know that I wasn't fine for years after Carl did those things to me."

Reid didn't say anything. He couldn't. Morgan was right. He _did_ know how Reid was feeling, at least some of it.

"Reid," Morgan said when his colleague didn't answer. "Come on, man, talk to me."

"I- I don't think I can," Reid admitted. "Not yet."

"Alright, Reid," Morgan said. "When you are, let me know. I want you to promise me that you will. Don't try to bottle it all up. I did, for years, and it was the worst decision that I ever made in my life. Not just because Carl went on to hurt those other boys but because of how it hurt me, too."

"I will," Reid whispered.

"Promise?" Morgan pressed.

"Promise," Reid agreed.


	4. Chapter 4

Reid quickly fell asleep. Morgan stayed awake for a while longer, thinking, but not that long after Reid he too began to nod off.

He was woken from his sleep by a raspy voice moaning.

"Please don't do anything to Henry," Reid mumbled in his sleep. "I'm sorry; I'll let you do anything."

"Reid," Morgan called to the sleeping figure. "Reid, wake up." It didn't rouse the man at all.

When Reid screamed, Morgan jumped up and rushed to his friend. There were tears on his face that was contorted in agony.

"Reid," Morgan said loudly. Nothing. "Spencer, wake up!" he tried, gently shaking his shoulder.

Reid's eyes snapped open. He looked around frantically before he focused on Morgan. The second he realized who it was, he sat up and threw his arms around his friend, still sobbing.

If Morgan was surprised by the hug, he didn't say anything. He just sat down on the edge of the hospital bed and held his friend, telling him that he was safe and that no one was going to hurt him anymore.

A doctor and two nurses came running when they heard scream coming from room 427 but when they reached the doorway, they all quietly left, seeing that their patient was in good hands.

When Spencer's terror had diminished, he suddenly felt pain in his chest. He realized that he had probably disturbed his broken ribs when he had tightly hugged Morgan. His cheeks flamed when he realized what he had just done.

"Sorry," he mumbled, blushing all the way to tips of his ears.

"Hey, Reid," Morgan said gently, "there is no reason to be sorry. If what you've been through isn't reason enough to have a nightmare and crying jag, I don't know what is."

"I got your shirt wet," Reid muttered.

"I don't think that I'm gonna melt from some salt water, Pretty Boy," Morgan chuckled.

"What?" Reid asked, embarrassment slowly fading.

"_Wizard of Oz? _Wicked Witch of the West? Evil flying monkeys?" Morgan tried. Reid still looked clueless. "When you get outta here, you and I are getting you educated on classic TV and movies.

"Are you ok?" Morgan asked when he noticed pain replacing the embarrassment on Reid's face.

"My ribs hurt," he said. "I think I might have, uh, hugged you a little too hard."

"I'll go get a nurse to see if you can have some more pain medication for it," Morgan said, starting to rise from the bed.

"More?" Reid squeaked. "I've already had some?"

"Yeah," Morgan replied, confused at Reid's anxiety.

"Wha-what was it that they gave me?" the young agent asked.

"I can't really remember the name," Morgan said, trying to recall it. "Keta- or Keto- something. Why? Oh," he answered himself drawing out the syllable, feeling like a complete idiot for forgetting about Reid's sensitivity with pain killers. "Oh, right. No, Reid, they didn't give you any narcotics. Hotch said he told the doctors that they made you sick before he met up with us in the waiting room earlier."

"Oh," he said stiffly. "Good."

Morgan looked at the younger man for a moment before leaving to talk to the doctor.

He returned a moment later with an older nurse who gave the patient a shot directly into his IV.

"What is that?" Reid asked her.

"Ketorolac," she replied. "It's a strong NSAID. Why?"

"Oh, I just have bad reactions to narcotic pain medications," he answered vaguely.

"Alright," she said skeptically. "Try and get some rest, honey."

She left and the two were left in silence.

"Are you going to try going back to sleep?" Morgan asked after a few minutes of silence.

"I don't know," Reid answered. "I don't know if I'll be able to sleep without having another nightmare."

"Want to watch some TV?" Morgan asked. Reid declined with a shake of his head. "How bout a game?"

"What kind of game?" Reid responded.

"I could see if the nurses have any cards," Morgan said. "Or a chess board or something."

"Can you even play chess?" Reid asked.

"Well," Morgan said, "no, not really. Cards?"

"If you don't mind getting your butt kicked," the Las Vegas born man taunted.

"Oh ho, so that's how it's gonna be, huh, Pretty Boy?" Morgan countered. "We'll just see about that."

He went to the desk and asked for the cards. After a little scrounging around, the found a set and Reid and Morgan were soon into a heated game of poker. Friendly insults were exchanged and the two men were temporarily distracted from the tragedy that had befallen the young agent.

After six hands, Reid's eyes began to slip closed. He kept forcing them back open but they would fall closed again mere seconds later.

"Reid, man," Morgan said, gathering the deck back up and sliding it into the box, "go to sleep. It's after 2 already."

"No, no, 's'ok," Reid said mumbled. " 'm not tired."

"Kid, you are falling asleep right now," Morgan smirked.

"Can't fall asleep," Reid muttered as his eyes closed again. "Have another nightmare."

"Reid, I am right here," Morgan said seriously. "I'm not gonna leave. If you start having another bad dream, I'll wake you up. Just keep remembering that you and Henry are safe now, ok?"

"Ok, Morgan," Reid mumbled. "Just, don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," Morgan assured him. "Don't worry."

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Morgan woke Reid from two more nightmares that night. Neither got much sleep but at least the nurses managed to keep everyone unnecessary out of the room until they had enough sleep to function.

Around 11, JJ returned, just like she said she would. When Henry saw his godfather he start shouting, "Unca 'pesser, Unca 'pesser!"

"Hi, Henry," Spencer smiled at his godson.

"Unca 'pesser, Momma!" the little boy demanded. She looked at her friend and waited for his ok before setting her son down on the bed.

"Gentle, Henry," Will reminded his young son.

"Ok, Daddy," Henry responded.

Henry put his little arms around his godfather's middle, taking care to be overly gentle. Spencer used his good arm to wrap it around his godson as best he could.

It was one of the sweetest things anyone in the room had ever seen. It was made ever sweeter when Henry's high little voice said, "Tank you for 'tecting me, Unca 'pesser."

Spencer leaned down and kissed his godson's head.

"That's my job, Henry," he replied.

"You 'posed to say 'You're we'come,' Unca 'pesser," Henry informed his godfather sternly. "Momma says!"

All the adults laughed at the adorable little boy on the bed. Henry, however, didn't see what was funny and pouted for being laughed at.

"You know what, Henry?" Spencer said when he saw the unhappy expression on his godson's face. "You and your momma are absolutely right. When someone says 'thank you', the other is supposed to say 'you're welcome.' So, you are very welcome, Henry."

Henry looked placated and slid off the bed and toddled over to Morgan.

"Tank you for findin' us, Unca Morgy," Henry said as he reached his arms up to hug Morgan as well. He picked up the child and hugged him back.

"You're welcome, little man," he told his friend's son, "but it wasn't just me. Uncle Hotch, Auntie Emily, and Auntie Penny helped a lot, too."

"I know," Henry informed the agent. "Momma told me. I tell them tank you at da party."

"What party?" Reid asked, hoping it wasn't what he suspected it was.

"Well, it was supposed to be a surprise," JJ mock growled as she grabbed her son's sides and started tickling him. He shrieked with laugher for a moment until she set him down again.

"We're plannin' on havin' a party at our house," Will picked up where JJ had left off. "Sorta to celebrate you all comin' home."

"Not until you feel better, Spence," JJ assured him. "Not anything big, really; just all of us and the rest of the team. And Jack, of course."

"Sounds great, JJ" Spencer said, even though he was thinking that there was nothing for him to celebrate. He had gotten his godson kidnapped and he had been tortured.

'No,' he thought forcefully. 'I told JJ I wouldn't blame myself.'

'But you are to blame,' a nasty little voice whispered. 'It is all your fault. You should blame yourself. You deserved what you got for putting Henry in that dangerous situation.'

'NO!' Spencer shouted back in his mind. 'I didn't deserve that. No one does. I fought the man who kidnapped us but he was stronger. I tried as hard as I could. I didn't let him hurt Henry. I protected him. I did!'

'Do you really believe that, Spencer?' the voice asked.

'I do,' he began to think but it wasn't true. Logically, he knew that he had done everything in his power to protect Henry but this was one of the times when emotion won out over logic. His head told him that he did everything physically possible to protect Henry from harm but his heart was telling him to feel guilty that Henry had been put in the middle and had his life endangered.

"Spence? Spencer?" JJ's voice broke through his reverie. "Morgan, is he ok? Has this happened before? Maybe something is wrong; I'm getting a doctor to…"

"JJ, relax," Morgan said. "Look, he's fine. I bet his big ol' brain was just doing some thinking. Reid, you ok, man?"

"Huh?" he replied. "Oh, yeah, sorry JJ, I was thinking. What'd you say?"

"I said that we needed to get home," JJ repeated. "When I told my mom about this, she decided to fly here so she is waiting at home to see us. We'll see you later."

"Oh, ok," Spencer said, still half thinking about the argument he had had with himself.

"Bye bye, Unca 'pesser," Henry said as he hugged his godfather again and gave him a slobbery kiss. "Lub you."

"Bye Henry," he said. "I love you too, Henry."

"You all mind if I speak with Spencer alone for a moment?" Will asked in his quiet Southern voice.

"I'll go get us some more Jell-O," Morgan said. "Kid's almost as addicted to it as he is to coffee."

"Bring me back a blue one," Reid called after him as the older man left the room. A laugh floated in as he walked away.

"I'll take Henry down to the car," JJ told Will.

"Ok, honey," Will replied.

When JJ and Henry exited, Will ran a hand through his hair and sighed shakily.

"Spencer," he began, "I can't thank you enough for what you did for Henry."

"Will, you shouldn't thank me," Spencer told the former police officer.

"What do you mean, Spencer?" Will asked, although he already thought he knew.

"When I agreed to be Henry's godfather, part of that was agreeing to protect him," the agent responded.

"That's not the only reason," Will said quietly. "You blame yourself."

"I-" he started but the look on Will's face told him it was fruitless to try to deny it. "Don't you blame me?"

"No," Will said. "I blame that bastard who attacked you. I saw that guy on Penelope's computer. He was huge. JJ told me what you told her what happened. I don't think I would have been able to get away from him the first time like you did."

"You really don't blame me?" Spencer asked in disbelief. He had really been expecting Will to tell him it was his fault.

"No, Spencer," he said emphatically. "I really don't. When I think of all the horrible things he did to you, what you endured, just to protect Henry, it makes me sick to my stomach because I don't know if I could have survived it long enough like you did and that scares the hell outta me."

"You would be surprised with what you can endure when your body is under extreme duress," Spencer replied. "I wouldn't have made it past the kitchen if it hadn't been for the increase in adrenaline and a few other hormones, I would never have been able to tackle him. As for the, uh, rest of it, I didn't have a choice. I couldn't let Henry get hurt."

"I'll never be able to repay you, Spencer," Will informed the man who he had a new found respect and admiration for. "But anything you ever need just let me know. Home repair, a ride, a kidney, you name it, it's yours."

Spencer laughed slightly at Will's weak attempt at humor.

"I better get going," Will said. "JJ is just itchin' to get home with Henry. We'll come back and visit when you're home. I'm sure that there will be plenty of people keepin' you busy here."

"I'd like that," the 28 year old replied.


	5. Chapter 5

Morgan entered a few minutes the room with a tray in each hand.

"Turkey and Cheddar or ham and Swiss?" he asked.

"Turkey," Reid replied.

The pair ate their sandwiches, speaking occasionally about nothing important. Reid could tell that Morgan wanted him to talk about what had happened to him but he couldn't; not now and maybe not ever.

AS they were eating their Jell-O, Reid suddenly asked, "What was his name, Morgan?"

"What?" Morgan responded.

"The guy's name," Reid repeated. ""I want to know the name of the guy that did…all that stuff to me. He never would say."

"Oh," Morgan said. "His name was Harold Michaels. We still don't know why he took you and, well, you know."

"He told me that," Reid said softly. "He was mad that I shot Philip Dowd. They were half-brothers."

"No, that's not possible," the dark skinned man insisted. "Garcia must've checked through everything in Dowd's history a hundred times since she started. He doesn't have any siblings."

"Yes, he does," Reid rebutted. "He told me that their father wouldn't admit that Harold was his son so his name was never on the birth certificate but that Philip had accepted him."

"Damn," Morgan swore. "Gives a lot more credibility to the nature side of nature versus nurture argument, doesn't it. No," he said when Reid opened his mouth, "I don't want a lecture about it, kid."

"Sorry," Reid said, a small grin on his face. "I can't help it.

"Where were Henry and I?" he asked his friend.

"At a house," he said slowly, "on Dumfries Rd. in Montclair."

"Funny that he lived so close all this time and we never even knew about him," Reid said thoughtfully.

Morgan made a noncommittal noise.

"Why do you look like that?" Reid asked with confusion in his voice.

"Like what?" Morgan replied.

"Guilty."

"I don't look like that. Why would I look like that? I didn't do anything to feel guilty about," Morgan stated quickly.

"Yes," Reid said, "you do look guilty. I know you didn't do anything but you do look guilty. Tell me what's wrong."

"You're the one who got kidnapped; you should be talking, not me," Morgan tried to distract the other profiler.

"What happened that's making you look so guilty, Morgan?" Reid asked gently, ignoring Morgan's blatantly obvious attempt at distracting him.

"I sold him that house!" Morgan burst out. "I sold him that house and showed him that shed that he kept you in. I showed the man that tortured you for five and a half days exactly where to keep you so none of the neighbors would hear your screams."

That hadn't been what Reid had been expecting. He thought Morgan would say something about not protecting Reid and then Reid himself would get upset and say that he didn't need protecting and Morgan would make a snippy comment about how he obviously had needed to be protected and the best friends wouldn't talk for the rest of the day. That's what always happened when Reid got hurt. It was a ritual for them.

"Morgan," Reid said, shock still clear in his voice, "you couldn't have known who he was or what he was planning. You just thought he was some guy who wanted to buy the house you remodeled."

"I know that, logically," Morgan informed his friend, head dropping into his hands, "but I still feel so damn guilty, like I should have known somehow. Like I could have been able to tell that he was a psycho after all the ones we've seen through work. But he was so normal. He was polite and nice. He seemed a little distant but, after all, I wasn't his friend, I was just showing him around the house.

"And that's not the only reason I feel guilty," Morgan continued softly. "After what happened with Hotch, I really needed to see my family and I forgot about you and the rest of the team while I was there. I didn't call you because I was busy talking with my momma and meeting my sister's boyfriends and checking up on James that I just forgot that you were hanging at home watching Henry while the rest of us were off with our friends or families and might like to talk. Not one of us thought to call you and see how you were doing and it's killing me that we could have found you sooner, maybe before he… if we had just called you. Well, JJ did, but she thought you were joking around since you told her not to call, just to enjoy her vacation and her alone time with Will."

"Morgan," Reid said, saddened by the immense guilt Morgan was feeling, "it's not your fault. You couldn't have known what was going on with me and Henry. I didn't expect you to call while you were with your family. If I had a family like yours, I would want to forget about everything except being with them when I got to visit them. For me, it's a blessing to have work as a distraction from my family but your family is normal and they all love you no matter what."

"But you're part of my family, too," Morgan said. "I shouldn't have forgotten about you just because I was with my blood family. You know a lot more about me than my sisters do. You're just as much my family as they are."

Reid didn't really know how to respond to that. He knew that the other agents he worked with cared about him and that they were all friends but until last night when Hotch said losing him would be like losing a family member, no one had ever told him anything like that. It made his heart soar to know how much his friends loved and cared for him. He hadn't felt like anyone had really cared about him in a long time. He knew his mother loved him, of course, but she only knew who he was half of the time. The other half, she couldn't even remember she had a son, much less let him know she loved him.

"Morgan," Reid finally said, "You're part of my family too and I don't want you feeling guilty over what happened. I'm not upset that you were preoccupied with your family while you were visiting them. It's not your fault and feeling guilty over it isn't going to change anything. I'm alright now." Morgan gave him a look that clearly said he didn't believe it for a second. "I mean that I am not with that guy anymore and Henry and I aren't going to be hurt anymore. And I will be ok, some day."

"I don't think that I can just stop feeling guilty," Morgan said.

"I know what you mean," Reid said under his breathe, thinking of how JJ had made him promise to stop feeling guilty over getting Henry kidnapped. Louder, he said, "How about you apologize so I can forgive you for not calling me and then we forget this whole guilt thing, alright?"

"Alright, Pretty Boy," he conceded. "I guess we can try that. I'm sorry for not calling you and I promise to make it up to you."

"You don't have to-" Reid began but stopped at the severe look Morgan gave him. "Ok, apology accepted."


	6. Chapter 6

Soon after the friends had finished eating their Jell-O, Morgan received a call on his cell phone.

"Morgan," he answered the call. "Oh, hi."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I don't know," he said. "Lemme ask him."

"Hey Reid," Morgan said, moving the phone away from his mouth, "Hotch wants to know if he and Jack can come visit. He says Jack is really worried about you, won't stop asking to see you."

Reid was very hesitant. He really didn't like anyone seeing him like this but he especially didn't want a child, Jack, to see him. He hadn't seen himself but he imagined he looked quite frightening. His face was probably a mix of blacks, blues, yellows, and greens from where his captor, Michaels, had punched him. He had compression bandages on his arm and leg, causing them to look much bigger than usual. He had a large bump on his head from where, he assumed, he had been hit over the head by the statue and again when his head had hit the wall. He had dark bruises on his neck, he was positive, from where he had nearly been strangled to death. He had cuts along his hands that he knew looked slightly gruesome. That really wasn't something a child should see.

"I don't think so, Hotch," Morgan said when Reid didn't answer him. He was silent for a moment and the said, "Ok, ok, man, keep your shirt on.

"Reid," Morgan said with a sigh, "Hotch says that Jack is crying because he thinks you are with the angels like his mommy and he won't believe Hotch when he says that you are just hurt."

"Morgan," he whispered, "I look like a monster with these casts and bruises. I'll just scare Jack."

"Kid," Morgan chuckled, "you couldn't look scary if you tried. You just look like a whooped puppy."

Reid gave him indignant glare, to which the other responded, "Yup, _exactly _like a whooped puppy. Can they come or not?"

Reid sighed heavily and nodded his head.

"If he runs out of the room screaming when he sees me and has nightmares for weeks," Reid muttered angrily, "it's all on you."

"Reid changed his mind," Morgan smirked, lifting the phone to his ear again. "Come on over."

He snapped the phone closed and looked over to his friend.

"They're gonna be here in about half an hour," Morgan informed the agent in the bed.

The pair waited quietly, Morgan reading a newspaper a nurse had brought by earlier and Reid silently glaring at Morgan, still miffed at the older agent for telling him he looked like a whooped puppy.

A knock on the door frame alerted both of them to the presence at the entrance to the hospital room. Hotch stood there, Jack in one arm and a duffle bag in the other.

He set Jack down and the little boy ran up to the bed staring wide eyed at the man propped up on the bed. Hotch followed, sitting in a chair near Morgan.

"Hi, Jack," Reid said, putting on a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I thought that you were with the angels like Mommy," Jack whispered, sadness permeating his high, childlike voice.

"I'm not going to be with the angels any time soon," Reid assured the young child.

"I have a story to read to you," Jack said, looking to his father, who opened the duffle bag at his feet and began rooting around for something. "Mommy or Daddy always read to me when I'm sick."

"Here," Hotch said to Jack, handing him a book and throwing and apologetic look to Reid as soon as Jack turned around.

"My mom used to read to me when I was sick, too," Reid commented as Jack tried to haul himself on to the bed and Hotch got up to lift his son up to the bed.

Jack snuggled into Uncle Spencer's side and asked, "What about your daddy? Did he read to you?"

Hotch opened his mouth as if to say something and Morgan crinkled his forehead, wondering how Reid was going to respond. Both agents knew what a sensitive topic William Reid was with his son.

"When I was little," Reid began, "and I would get sick, my dad would make me soup and toast and give me juice and sometimes play with me, if I wasn't too sick. But he didn't read to me; that was something special between me and my mom."

"Oh," Jack said, accepting the answer easily. "Well, is it ok if I read to you since your mommy isn't here to do it?"

"I think she'd be happy that someone was reading to me," Reid smiled slightly at the little boy.

Jack beamed and began reading Dr. Seuss' _Green Eggs and Ham. _

"Why don't you go home for a little while?" Hotch suggested to Morgan, who's eyelids were drooping. "Take a shower and a nap."

"No, I'm fine," Morgan mumbled, straightening up. "I'll stay here."

"Morgan," Hotch said, "you are about to fall asleep sitting up. You've barely slept in two days. Go home. Take a shower and a nap. Jack and I'll stay here with Reid."

"Alright," Morgan conceded. "Tell Reid I'll be back in a few hours."

After Jack had finished reading the story to his Uncle Spencer, he remembered something else.

"Daddy!" Jack cried. He scrambled off the bed and ran over to his father. He crawled up into the FBI agent's lap. The boy cupped his hands around his mouth and leaned up to his dad's ear, whispering something unintelligible to Reid.

Hotch listened for a moment and then chuckled slightly. He set Jack on the floor and started looking through the duffle bag again. He found what he was looking for and handed his young son two brightly colored items.

"Here, Uncle Spencer," Jack said, coming back over to the bed. He held out the two items and now Reid could see that it was a card made from construction paper and a picture frame made out of cardboard, fuzz balls, and beads.

Spencer looked at the card. Jack had written:

_Get better soon, Uncle Spencer._

_Love_

_Jack_

There was a picture Reid assumed was of him and Jack. There was a very tall stick figure with (him) brown squiggles coming out of his head and a short one with yellow squiggles (Jack). They seemed to be holding hands.

His eyes moved to the picture frame. There was no pattern to the decoration on the frame. Inside the frame was a photograph of himself and a slightly younger Jack sitting on a couch, reading a book together. Reid remembered the dinner party that the picture had been taken at. It had been at JJ's.

"It's for you to put on your desk at work like Daddy," Jack informed him.

"Thank you, Jack," Reid said to his boss's son. "I'll put it on my desk as soon as I go back to work."

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Nearly an hour after Hotch and Jack arrived, Jack began to fall asleep. He was lying next to Spencer, listening to his dad and adopted uncle talk, eyes falling closed and snapping open every few seconds.

"Hotch," Reid said quietly as Jack eyes fell closed and did not reopen, "take Jack home."

"I told Morgan that I would stay here until he got back," Hotch said.

"I don't need a babysitter," Reid muttered angrily, glaring at his boss. "I'm 28 years old, for goodness sake. Take Jack home."

Before Hotch could answer, a brightly dressed blonde woman entered the room.

"Hey, my Junior G-man!" Garcia said smiling brightly.

"You can leave now," Reid said petulantly. "Garcia can babysit me until Morgan gets back."

Hotch chuckled internally at Reid's facial expression.

"Alright, fine, I'll leave," Hotch relented. "There are some clothes and the books you asked for." He got up from the chair, bringing the bag closer to the bed and gently picking up the sleeping child.

"See you later," he said quietly as he left the room with his son.

With Hotch gone, Garcia took over the role of watching their young colleague and friend.

"Ok, genius, time for cookies and get well presents," the technical analyst declared.

"You made me cookies?" Reid said, perking up. "What kind?"

"Chocolate chip with M & M's," she replied, producing a tin from the large bag she was carrying and handed it to the man on the bed.

"You also get a get well card," she pulled an envelope from the bag and handed it to him as well, "and a get well teddy bear."

She pulled a white teddy bear out of her bag. In its hands was a heart with "Get Well Soon!" embroidered on it.

"Do I look like a 12 year old girl to you, Garcia?" the agent asked, secretly pleased that someone had gotten him a get well present.

"Nope," she said, smirking. "You're too tall."

Reid glared jokingly at her. She laughed cheerily and took a seat next to her friend.

Suddenly, Reid saw her face become sad, a drastic change from the happiness she had been exuding moments before.

"Garcia," he said with concern, "what's wrong?"

"Oh, Spencer," she said, tears filling her eyes. "You have no idea how worried I was. When Hotch called I felt like someone had punched me in the gut and when we had basically nothing to go on for a whole day and I thought that you and Henry were de- we had lost you, I-I-I couldn't take it. You guys are my family and if anything happened to you… I love you and Henry to much to lose you"

She dissolved into tears and buried her face in her hands.

Reid hesitantly and awkwardly reached his good arm out and patted the blonde's shoulder. She turned towards him and engulfed him in a gentle hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Garcia," he said, wrapping his good arm around her but at a loss for how to comfort his friend, "I'm fine and Henry's fine. We are both fine."

"But he- he did all those horrible, horrible things to you," she said, tears still flowing freely. "You were getting hurt and we didn't even know. And you can't be fine after he- after what he did. Oh, god, Reid, when the doctor told us what happened…"

"Penelope," Reid said, his voice tight, "I'm alright but I really don't want to talk about that."

"Oh," she said. "Ok."

She sat up and wiped her face off with the hand, sniffling slightly.

"I didn't-" he said, feeling guilty over the hurt look on his friend's face. "Garcia, I know that you mean well but I just can't talk about that. Ok? It has nothing to do with you. I- I know that you love me and that's why you are so upset and I love you too but I just can't talk about that." His voice broke slightly as he continued. "It just- it still hurts too much."

"Ok, sweetie," she said, eyes tearing up again. "How about we do something to pass the time? Anything you want to do?"

Reid's face flushed and he looked down at his hands in embarrassment.

"What is it, honey?" she asked softly.

"Could you- could you read to me?" he whispered, sounding much younger than he was. "My mom used to always read to me when I was sick or scared but she's not here and I-"

"Say no more," Garcia cut him off softly. She picked up the bag off the floor. "Which one do you want me to read?"

"That one," he said, stopping her after she had pulled out five books. "That's what I would always ask my mom to read when I was sick."

She smiled sadly and turned to the first page of the book.

"Call me Ishmael…"


	7. Chapter 7

Morgan returned to the hospital four hours later feeling very refreshed from his shower and nap. He had never missed his bed as much as he did last night.

He reached his friend's room quickly and quietly opened the door, in case Reid was asleep.

"He fell asleep about 45 minutes ago," Garcia whispered from the chair by his bed, knitting something purple.

"When'd you get here?" Morgan asked in a low voice. "I thought Hotch and Jack were going to stay until I got back."

"Jack fell asleep right around when I got here so Reid told him to go home," Garcia replied.

"Oh," Morgan said, thoughtfully. "I didn't even think of Jack needing a nap."

"When you start having some kids of your own, you'll remember only too well about naps," she told him. "In fact, you will wish for them to come every moment of the day."

"Have you been talking to my momma?" he joked. "You both seem to have baby Derek's on the mind."

"Only if those baby Derek's are baby Garcia's, too, Hot Stuff," she flirted.

"Only in your dreams, Baby Girl," he chuckled.

She sighed with mock sadness.

"I think I'm going to get going," she said after a moment. "I need to get cooking. I'm making sure Reid eats well when he gets home so it is going to be casserole central in my kitchen for the next few days."

"I'm sure he'll love it," Morgan assured her. "Skinny kid needs some fattening up."

"Ain't that the truth," she agreed. "Tell him I'll visit him again soon and that I love him."

"Alright," Morgan promised. "I will."

"Bye, Chocolate Thunder!" Garcia said brightly as she left the room.

Morgan shook his head and laughed quietly to himself.

He took the seat she had just been occupying and picked up on of the books on the bedside table. It was _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea _by Jules Verne. He flipped it open and began reading for lack of anything else to do.

He hadn't been reading very long when Reid began moaning in his sleep and turning his head from side to side.

"No," he moaned. "Don't hurt Henry…do anything you want to me…"

"Reid, come on, man," Morgan said. "Wake up."

Reid's breathing was getting faster and his heart monitor was beeping wildly.

"Please," the sleeping man whimpered, "Please, don't."

Reid began thrashing around violently, screaming and crying.

"Spencer!" Morgan shouted. He grabbed the younger man's shoulders and held him down firmly.

"Let go of me!" Reid screamed, his eyes opening but not really seeing. "LET GO OF ME!"

"Spencer, its Morgan, man. Wake up!" Morgan shouted, ignoring the nurses standing at the door.

"Morgan?" Reid said, with a scratchy voice, finally seeing who it was.

"Yeah, Reid," Morgan said, gathering his tearful, frightened friend into his arms. "Just me. Just plain old Derek Morgan."

"I thought that it was him," Reid said in a nearly inaudible voice. "Someone was holding me down and I thought he was…" The abused young man broke off, fresh tears cascading down his cheeks and falling onto Morgan's shirt.

"I'm sorry for holding you down and scaring you," Morgan said with a guilt laced voice, "but you were going to hurt yourself. You were thrashing around and screaming and I didn't want you to hurt yourself any more than you already are."

Reid sniffled loudly and pulled out of Morgan's embrace. He still had tears in his eyes and trailing down his cheeks but he scrubbed them roughly away.

"Thanks for waking me up," Reid said softly as he lay back down and turning on his side. He didn't want Morgan to see the red flush blossoming on his face from the embarrassment he felt about crying on the older man's shoulder like a terrified child.

Morgan knew that there wasn't anything he could say to Reid to make the younger man feel better. There were no words to remove the pain and shame. He knew that better than anyone.

"I know you aren't asleep," Morgan said when Reid was silent for over 10 minutes.

"So?" Reid retorted.

"Well," Morgan said, "it seems kinda silly for us both to be sitting here not saying or doing anything."

"I don't feel like saying or doing anything right now, Morgan," Reid muttered.

"Come on, Reid," Morgan urged. "Let's do something. Cards or TV or-"

"Would you shut up?" Reid burst out angrily. "I said I didn't want to do anything."

Morgan was shocked. Reid never got angry and lashed out. In the years that he had known Spencer Reid he had seen him act this way only a handful of times.

"I-I'm sorry," he apologized, still shocked at Reid's reaction to his words. "I-I was just trying to-"

"You know," Reid interrupted him, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'm going to go back to sleep."

"O-ok," Morgan said, confused. "I'll be quiet."

"Actually," Reid said, still looking away from the older agent, "why don't you leave? I'm going to sleep for a while."

"Reid," Morgan began but he didn't get to finish his thought.

"Leave!" Reid shouted.

Morgan was at a loss for what to do or to say. He couldn't understand what he had done to upset his friend so. Sure, he had pushed him a little to do something besides lay there silently but he was just trying to distract the tormented man from reliving his torture over and over. He did that for years and he knew no good came from it, only more pain and anguish.

"Leave!" Reid repeated more insistently.

Morgan reluctantly rose from his chair and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned to look back at his friend who still wasn't facing him.

"If you want me to come back in," he said softly, "have one of the nurses come get me. I'll be in the waiting area down the hall."

Reid didn't respond so Morgan sighed and exited the room.

As soon as he heard the door click shut and Morgan's footsteps fade, Reid let the anguished sobs escape his lips and hot tears of misery cascade down his cheeks.


	8. Chapter 8

Derek still hadn't been invited back to Reid's room when visiting hours ended. The nurses had let him stay before because they thought having a friend would comfort their patient but now that said friend had been kicked out, they didn't have any reason to let him stay.

"I'm not leaving," Morgan said stubbornly.

"Sir, with all due respect," a very petite nurse said forcefully, "your friend doesn't seem to want you here. We were willing to look the other way because we thought you might make him feel better but since that obviously isn't the case anymore, I am going to have to insist that you leave. If you don't, I will be forced to call security to remove you, FBI agent or not."

Morgan sighed heavily. He knew that he had no choice in the matter but maybe, if he could just talk to Reid and find out what was wrong he could fix whatever he had done to make his friend so angry and stay with him.

"Ok, I'll leave," he conceded, "but let me see Reid first. I just want to ask him something and then, if he still doesn't want me here, I'll leave without question."

She huffed in annoyance but gestured for him to go to the room down the hall.

Derek Morgan quietly and cautiously entered room 427, not sure what to expect of its occupant.

Reid was lying on the bed, still facing away from the door. Morgan couldn't tell if he was awake or not.

"Reid?" he said softly. If the younger man had fallen asleep, he didn't want to wake him. Reid needed as much uninterrupted sleep as he could get. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," he heard a mumble come from the bed. "What are you still doing here? I figured you would have left hours ago."

"I told you I was gonna stay," Morgan reminded him. "I wasn't about to leave when I told you I was staying."

"You shouldn't have stuck around," Reid said, his voice becoming a little louder. Morgan could hear a heavy note to it. "I was a jerk to you."

"Yeah, well, I did," Morgan responded for lack of a better answer.

Reid turned and slowly raised himself into a sitting position so he could see the other agent.

"I'm sorry," Reid apologized quietly. "I wasn't angry with you. I should have yelled at you like that."

"Don't worry about it, kid," Morgan deflected. "I've heard worse."

"Doesn't matter," Reid mumbled, looking down, ashamed of his actions towards his best friend. "I still shouldn't have told you to shut up. You were just trying to be nice and take my mind off of things."

"Not that I am mad about it or anything but why did you?" Morgan asked apprehensively. He didn't want to set Reid off into another fit of anger. "You don't get angry very easily. Did I do something or…"

"No, no, you didn't do anything," Reid quickly assured Morgan. "It didn't have anything to do with you."

"Then what was it?" Morgan prodded gently, retaking his seat from earlier that day.

"I couldn't keep it together anymore," Reid whispered. "I have been trying so hard to keep a happy face on; first for Henry, now for the team, but I just couldn't do it anymore. It's just too much."

"Reid," Morgan said sorrowfully, "you don't need to put on a happy face for me. I've been where you are. After the case in Chicago, I felt the same way you feel; like I had to show everyone that I was fine when really, all I wanted to do was to curl up in my bed and cry.

"You don't need to pretend for me, Reid," Morgan continued, watching the younger man's eyes fill with unshed tears. "I know that the rest of the team doesn't understand how you are feeling and you don't want them to know how much it hurts, how empty and ashamed and disgusted you feel, but I _do_. I've been right where you are. But there is one difference."

"What?" Reid asked through the lump of despair in his throat.

"I'm not going to let you go through this alone," Morgan said determinedly. "I was too scared and too ashamed to tell anyone what happened. I spent years hating myself and suffering silently but I never letting anybody see. I'm not gonna let you do that, Spencer. I'm not gonna let that bastard win. I am gonna make sure that you get through this, no matter what it takes."

Reid couldn't hold back his tears any longer. The surface tension broke and all the pain and desolation the tormented man felt was released.

"It hurts so much, Derek," Reid sobbed into his hands. "I can still feel him r-raping me. I can feel every single movement he made while he was doing it and I can feel him…finishing up inside of me. And every time I close my eyes, I see his eyes, staring at me like I was nothing but a tool to help him get off; like I wasn't even human.

Morgan, whose heart was aching for his best friend and the atrocities he had had to endure, couldn't hold himself back any longer. He silently moved from the chair to sit on the bed and reached his strong arms out to the broken man next to him. Wordlessly, he enfolded Reid into a tight embrace, one hand rubbing calming circles on the slighter man's back, the other cupping the back of brown haired head and pressing it into his shoulder.

"It feels like he took part of me away and I'll never get it back," Reid whispered into Morgan's shoulder. "It feels like he took my happiness."


	9. Chapter 9

Morgan held the broken man like that the next forty-five minutes, whispering comforting words occasionally.

The nurse from the hall came in at some point when Reid was still sobbing but left without saying a word when she saw what was transpiring in the room.

Reid's sobs subsided eventually but he didn't release his hold on Morgan. Morgan didn't care; if this was making Reid feel slightly less miserable, he would hold him all night long.

Morgan did let go of Reid when the Nevada native fell limp in his arms. Morgan carefully laid Reid down and pulled the blanket up to cover most of his body before resuming his vigil in the recliner.

Reid woke only once from a nightmare, very early in the morning. Morgan figured that all the crying had exhausted him and that exhaustion had kept his dreams at bay.

When he did awaken to screams at around four in the morning, Morgan again held his friend while he cried, comforting him until he fell once again into the land of nod.

Around 8 o'clock, both men woke up and ate some breakfast that a nurse brought for them. For the next two hours, the men alternated between watching horrible morning television, reading, and sitting quietly, each man thinking about what was to come.

When Reid's doctor arrived at 10, Morgan went outside to the hall. He spent the time Reid was talking to the doctor chatting with a cute nurse named Beth.

The doctor examined Reid for a few minutes and then the two talked for a few more. Reid looked…not happy, but glad about something.

The doctor left and Morgan reentered the room.

"So, what's the verdict?" Morgan asked, keeping his tone light.

"I can go home tomorrow morning," Reid said. "I'll have to wear removable hard plastic casts at all times except to change the bandages at the incision sites and I have to use a wheelchair except for around the house. I can use a crutch to get from room to room."

"That's terrific," Morgan said. "How long will you have to wear the casts for?"

"Three to four weeks," he replied. "Normally, a cast is worn for six to eight weeks but with the pins, I only need them half the time. After that, I'll be able to wear a walking cast on my leg and a splint on my arm and I'll be allowed to walk around as long as it isn't for too long. And the splint on my nose can come off in a week."

"That'll be nice," Morgan commented. "I broke my arm when I was seven when I fell off my bike. It was practically torture wearing a cast for two months in the summer. No swimming."

"I never swam much when I was a kid," Reid said thoughtfully. "I wasn't very good at it. I had a really hard time getting my arms and legs to move in sync with each other. I have pretty bad coordination."

"No, really?" Morgan laughed sarcastically. "I never would have guessed that."

"Oh ho ho," Reid mock laughed. "You are such a comedian, Morgan."

The two traded a few more innocent barbs before lapsing into a comfortable silence with Reid speeding through his fifth book since yesterday morning and Morgan reading that day's paper.

At around 12:30, one of the many nurses brought both of them lunch. When they uncovered their trays, they were surprised to see an extra Jell-O each. The nurse (who had been there every day since Reid had been admitted) just winked at them and left.

After eating, the agents played various card games for the next couple hours. Morgan lost nearly every hand miserably but he had fun anyway, glad to see a bit of his friend before this tragedy had befallen him.

Reid fell asleep around three. Morgan took that opportunity to go in the hall and call his mother.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

When Derek had told her Reid and Agent Jaraeu's son were missing, she had been extremely worried. She always felt bad for the young FBI agent that her son told her about. She knew about how hard his childhood was, how his father left him and his mother was sick. It made her heart hurt to hear about the poor child who was made to grow up much too soon and now, she was hurting to think that the young man was in trouble. She didn't even want to think about that baby being hurt.

She knew that he and Morgan were best friends and after all the hardships her baby boy had suffered, she couldn't bear to think of how yet another loss would affect him.

Her phone rang while she was thinking about the two. It was Derek.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said, hoping he wasn't calling to tell her that the missing boys were gone.

"Hey, Momma," her son's voice came through the phone.

"Did you find them?" she asked apprehensively.

"Yeah, Momma," he said. He didn't sound upset, so that was good. "Henry was fine and Reid, well…"

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Is he—is he…?" she trailed off.

"What?" Morgan asked. "Oh. Oh, no, he isn't dead. He's just…hurt."

"Oh, that poor boy," she said with sadness. "What happened?"

"I don't know all of it," he began slowly, "and some of what I do know, I can't tell you; it's not my place.

"They were taken by the half-brother of an UnSub that Reid shot about four years ago. He pretended to be a workman and attacked Reid in his apartment. He was taken to a house in a in a town near here and he was, uh, tortured. He's all cut up and has a few broken bones. We found them after they had been there for five and a half days. A woman who was looking at an open apartment had taken a picture and we were able to get the ID off it and then it was only a matter of finding the address and getting there. But when we got there, he climbed out a window and went to the shed where he was holding Reid and Henry. He, uh, he tried to strangle Reid but I knocked him off and when he tried to attack me, Hotch shot him. We got them to the hospital and Reid's been here since Thursday night. He can leave in the morning, though. "

"Oh," Fran Morgan gasped softly. "Oh, my. That's—that's just…"

Derek listened to his mother struggle to find an appropriate word to describe the atrocity Spencer Reid had gone through. When she couldn't he said, "I know, Momma. I know. I feel the same way."

"And poor Spencer doesn't even have anyone to take care of him," she commented sadly. "What with his mother being ill and his father being a spineless coward… That poor boy is all alone."

Derek was shocked. He had never heard his mother use that kind of language to describe anyone. The worst she had ever called those bangers he used to hang around was "bad influences who should leave children alone" and he knew (although she never said so) that she disliked those boys for corrupting her baby boy almost as much as she hated the man who had shot his father. He supposed that his mother felt the same way he did; William Reid was blessed with an extraordinary child who he was supposed to love and take care of but instead he left when there were men who desperately wanted to be with their children but were ripped away much too soon.

"If only I lived nearer to you," his mother continued, "I could show that boy some real TLC. I know it isn't his mother's fault, of course, but from what you have told me, that boy never had someone who loved him and took care of him. I suppose his father might have before he left but…"

"Hey, now, Momma," the son said to his mother. "Don't you worry about him. I'm gonna stay with him for a while, until he is back on his feet. No one is letting him go through this alone. He is a part of all of our families. We'll take care of him."

"Oh, Derek, you are so like your father," the mother said with pride. "He always took care of everyone and anyone who needed help."

Derek's heart swelled. It always did when someone told him he was like his father because that was all he had ever wanted; to be like his beloved father.

"Thanks, Momma," Derek mumbled.

"You tell Spencer I'm thinking about him and praying for him, ok?" Fran requested.

"Alright, I will," he promised. "I'd better go, there are nurses glaring at me."

"Ok, honey, I'll let you go," Fran conceded. "Call me soon, though. I love you."

"I love you, too, Momma," Derek said softly. "Tell Desi and Sarah I love them, too."

"I will," he heard his mother oblige before he ended the call.

Derek reentered the hospital room and sat down to read more of Jules Verne, watching for any sign of a nightmare.


	10. Chapter 10

Reid woke up from his uninterrupted nap after a little over an hour. He and Morgan played a few hands of five card stud before they both went back to reading. Just as Morgan was startled out of the spell Jules Verne had over him by a snap as Reid's book was closed. Reid looked up with a small, sheepish smile when he saw Morgan jump.

"Jeeze, man," Morgan chuckled, "You just about gave me a heart attack."

"Good place to have one," Reid quipped.

"Ha ha ha," the toned man said dryly. "Laugh it up now, Pretty Boy. I'll get you back."

"What's up?" Morgan asked when Reid didn't pick up another book.

"I'm done with all of these," he answered.

"Right," Morgan said, once again astonished by how fast the kid could read. Hotch had brought him at least 20 books and he had read every one of them (excluding the book Morgan was reading) in the few hours they had spent reading over the past few days.

"Well," Morgan said slowly, "what do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Reid said thoughtfully. "Some kind of game?"

"You mean more cards or something else?" the other asked.

"Something else," Reid decided. "I get tired of beating you all the time."

Morgan rolled his eyes and thought of a game they could play.

"Well," he said finally, "the only thing I can think of is this game my sisters and their friends used to play with each other at sleep overs. They called it Truth. One person asks the other a question and they have to choose whether to answer or not. If they do, it's their turn. If not, the question asker wins and gets to make the loser do something. Nothing bad or mean," he assured his friend when he saw him look uneasy, "just funny or embarrassing, maybe."

"Why would your sisters and their friends do that?" Reid wondered aloud.

"Find out more about each other," Morgan replied. "Not normally what I do with my free time but we can't do much besides cards, reading, board games, and talk."

"Ok, I guess," Reid agreed.

"I'll go first," Morgan said. He thought for a moment before asking, "What's your favorite food and is there a reason?"

"What kind of question is that?" Reid asked incredulously.

"The starter kind," Morgan said. "I'll ask you more personal stuff later."

"Alright," Reid said. "My favorite food is mashed potatoes because, I guess, they are comforting. After eating them, your stomach always feels warm and full."

"I doubt that your stomach has ever been full, string bean," Morgan commented jokingly.

"I will have you know I eat a ton," Reid said. "When I am on a case sometimes I get busy and forget but when I am at home, I can eat a large pizza in one sitting."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Morgan laughed

"What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" Reid queried to get Morgan's mind off the eating habits of the youngest profiler.

"Moose tracks," Morgan answered. "What's something you've always wanted to do but haven't?"

Reid had to think about that one for a moment. He had never really thought about that before. When he was a kid, all he thought about was school, caring for his mother, and making sure no one found out about their life. After he had to commit her, all he really thought about was work and relieving his guilt of rarely visiting his mother.

"I guess," Reid said finally, "I've always wanted to learn to play an instrument. Maybe piano or guitar. Same question."

Morgan didn't have to think very long about that one. He had thought about it before.

"I've always wanted to go scuba diving," Morgan said. "I love to swim and I was always fascinated by sea animals when I was a kid. What was your favorite doctorate or degree to get?"

"Probably chemistry," Reid answered thoughtfully. "It was fun doing experiments. Why did you get a law degree if you wanted to be a cop?"

"I wasn't sure that I wanted to be a cop until I was getting to the end of law school." Morgan replied. "Ever since my dad, you know, I knew I wanted to put people who deserved it away but I couldn't stand when someone who was obviously guilty got off on a technicality or because I was defending them so I decided to be a cop so I wouldn't be a part if the trial process. I was almost done so it seemed pretty dumb to drop out a few months before I graduated.

"What did you want to be when you were a kid?"

"An astronaut," Reid answered immediately. "I loved the stars, not that I could see many in Vegas, and everything I could learn about the solar system and the galaxy. I still like the stars, really. My dad and I used to watch the few we could see from our back yard and a couple times he took me to a forest preserve a couple hours away and let me look through a telescope at them.

"Did you and your sisters get along as kids?"

"Sometimes," Morgan answered. "We got on alright when I was pretty little but, well, you know about my dad and the stuff that happened after that. I didn't really get along with anyone then. They were nice to me, don't get me wrong. They were great sisters. I was the one who made it hard for us to get along.

"Did you ever want siblings?"

"Absolutely," Reid said. "Mostly, I wanted a brother or sister when my mom and dad were fighting so that I would have someone to talk to but after my dad left, I wanted someone to help me and who would know how hard it was and how much it hurt to miss your dad and have to take care of a mother who didn't even recognize you half the time.

"What's your favorite memory when you were a kid?"

Morgan knew that one easily but it wasn't an easy thing to talk about. It was never easy to talk about his dad, even with his family. No one could know how it felt to watch you father be shot before your eyes, trying to protect you and the others in the little corner store and to hold him as he slowly struggled to take his last breath.

"You don't have to answer, Morgan," Reid said quietly, watching his friend fight some kind of battle with himself. "I'll ask something else."

"Nah, I can answer," Morgan refused the offer, false brightness obvious. "It was when I was nine. It was my birthday the next day but my celebration was on Saturday because we had to go to church on Sunday.

"My dad took me to this amusement park up north in a town called Gurnee. We never had a lotta money, so I usually just had a few friends over to our place and my mom would make a cake and we would play Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey and stuff like that. It was just me and him but I didn't care. I loved doing stuff with just me and my dad. He was my hero. We didn't get to do that much because he worked a ton. The park was called Marriott's Great America. It's a Six Flags park nowadays. Anyways, we spent all day going on roller coasters and all kinds of rides. God, I musta made him go in the Ferris wheel a dozen times," the dark skinned man reminisced, sadness tingeing his voice. "It was my favorite."

"It was the happiest day of my life. I had never had as much fun as I did that day and, right before we left the park, my dad gave me my birthday present. It was this Swiss Army knife that my grandfather gave him when he turned ten. It made me feel so grown up and special because my sisters didn't have any family heirlooms…"

Morgan trailed off and didn't say anything for a moment so Reid cautiously said, "It sounds like a great memory of your dad."

"It wasn't, though," Morgan said shakily. "At least, it didn't turn out to be."

Morgan stopped, running a hand over his shaved head and sighing. Reid felt a bubble of anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach, eerily sure he knew what Morgan was about to tell him.

"On the way home," he continued quietly, "my dad remembered that we needed milk and eggs for breakfast in the morning. We always had scrambled eggs on Sundays before church and a big lunch after. We stopped at the convenience store a couple blocks away from home to get them. We were paying and I was asking my dad if I could have a candy bar when this guy came in. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt with a hood and a bandana over half his face. He started screaming about everyone giving him all their money and he started brandishing a gun at everyone. He was obviously on something. My dad pushed me behind him and started trying to talk the guy down. The guy…the guy was calming down a little when a cop car pulled up outside. Someone musta seen something from outside and called 911. The guy flipped out and when my dad—when my dad told him to just calm down, he pointed the gun at my dad and he pu—pulled the trigger."

Morgan's voice cracked and his eyes filled with tears. He felt all the pain and anguish rise up in him like it had just happened yesterday. He had never told anyone the whole story. When he had to talk to the police, he had just told him that the guy came in and was acting all crazy but he didn't really see any more than that. The cops didn't press him; there were two other witnesses that could tell them what happened. They didn't need to traumatize the poor child, who had just watched his father die, any further. When his mother had asked him what had happened, he just told her the same thing. They both knew that she knew he wasn't telling the whole truth but Fran Morgan had never pushed her children to tell her more than they were ready to. He never had been.

"The cops rushed in then.

"He didn't die right away," Morgan whispered thickly. "He lived for a few minutes after…after he was shot. I was crying and he had his bloody hand on his face. He told me to take care of my mom and Sarah and Des and to tell them that he loved them. Then he told me that he—he loved me so much and he was prou—proud to have me as his son and he was sorry he had to leave me and miss watching me grow up." A few tears leaked from his dark eyes and his voice caught in his throat briefly. "He said he was sure I would turn out to be a fine man and that I would do him proud. He pulled me down to hug him and I did. I started crying harder and I told him I loved him and not to leave me. He kissed my forehead and said he was sorry and goodbye before his eyes closed and he went limp. I think I started screaming then because a police officer was telling me to calm down and trying to pull me off of my dad but I wouldn't let him. It seemed like hours but I finally got too tired to hold on anymore and I just lay there, sobbing, my head on my dad's chest, covered in his blood until a paramedic picked me up off him. I was too weak and exhausted to fight back so I let them carry me over to the ambulance and check me over. My momma showed up soon and well… you know what happens after something like that."

Reid could tell how much his best friend had been scarred by this and who wouldn't be? It was painful for him to watch the other man struggle to stay composed while he remembered of the worst, most horrific day of his entire life when he had lost one of the people he loved more than anything in the world. It made him realize that no matter what his father had done to him and his mother, it was nowhere near as bad as what had happened to Morgan and that he was lucky to have a dad that was still alive and well.

Reid reached out to Morgan and put a comforting hand on his arm. Morgan sniffed and looked at Reid with appreciation in his watery eyes when the younger man gave his arm a tight squeeze, as if tell him that he was there for Morgan and that he cared about the older agent.

"You know what, kid," Morgan said after they had been sitting like that quietly for a few minutes, "I think I've had enough of this game for now. Can we pick it up later?"

Reid nodded and both men lapsed back into their own memories of their childhoods and their fathers.


	11. Chapter 11

After they had been sitting silently for some time, Morgan flipped on the television. He browsed through the channels until he found some action movie playing. Reid didn't say anything even though he hated movies where people got blown up and involved in high speed car chases.

Around the time the movie was ending, a nurse brought them both some dinner. They ate the lasagna and garlic bread quietly, talking occasionally after the movie had ended and the TV turned off.

"You know," Morgan said after a long silence, "I've never told anybody the whole story about my dad. The cops didn't really press me about it too much because they had the two other people in the store; the owner and his wife. My mom asked me a few months after it happened but I couldn't tell her then. She told me that, when I was ready, she was there and she wanted to know."

"But you were never ready," Reid said insightfully. "It was so painful and traumatic that you buried it and started acting out to try and relieve your anger and sadness and pain."

"Yeah," Morgan whispered. "It feels kinda good to have told someone, though."

Reid opened his mouth to say something about the psychological effect of sharing suppressed memories but, for once, he realized that it wasn't the appropriate time. Instead, he decided to share something with Morgan that he had never told anyone either.

"For a long time," Reid started. "I thought my dad left because of me. I thought that if I had less smart and more normal, he would have stayed with me or at least taken me with him when he left. I thought that he didn't love me anymore because I was a freak and so he left. I cried myself to sleep for a really, really long time. I used to pray every day that my dad would come home so I didn't have to be alone with my mom anymore but he never did. I never heard a word from him until we tracked him down about Riley Jenkins.

"It was really hard to deal with her and take care of her," the man said quietly. "Sometimes, she would get convinced that I was trying to poison her when I gave her her medicine and she would lock me in the closet for hours. After the second time, I started hiding a flashlight, a few books or toys, some water, and some kind of food in there so I wouldn't get too hungry or thirsty and I would have something to pass the time until she decided that I wasn't going to poison her. And sometimes, when she had really bad episodes, she would start throwing things and breaking things. Not at me," he said at Morgan's horrified look. "It was pretty terrifying and I wanted so badly to tell someone but I didn't know how to get a hold of my dad and I couldn't tell anyone else because they would have taken me away from her and she needed me to take care of her."

"I can't imagine what that's like," Morgan said softly.

"He's been sending me letters," Reid mentioned. "Ever since we got back from Vegas. I got one a week for about six months and after that, I got maybe one a month."

"Why did he start sending less?" Morgan inquired.

"Probably because I never answered any of them," Reid said. "I didn't even read any of them. They're in a box in my closet. I wanted to throw them away but I couldn't.

"I hated him for so long and I don't think I want to anymore," Reid murmured. "After we saw him and he explained a little of why he left, I started slowly changing my view of him a bit. I was still so angry at him but I can understand that it was incredibly hard to be burdened with that knowledge. I want to forgive him but I just can't bring myself to read those letters."

"I think," Morgan suggested slowly, unsure of how Reid would react, "that you want to try to get back the relationship you guys had when you were a kid. From what you told me, you guys were close before he left. Maybe you're scared that if you read those letters, you will find out that what you were afraid of, and probably still are afraid of, was right all along and that he didn't love you and that he doesn't want to try and get back your relationship.

"I'm not saying that I think he doesn't love you," Morgan said quickly when he saw Reid look down, an intense look on his face. "I think that _you _are afraid _he_ thinks that. And I think that you need to read those letters."

Reid didn't say anything for a long time. Morgan was right. He needed to see what was in those letters. When he had thought he was going to die, he decided he would speak with his dad but since he had been rescued, all his fears and insecurities had come back with a vengeance and he had rethought his decision. Before he could move on, he needed to know what his father had been trying to tell him.


	12. Chapter 12

The FBI agents watched TV silently until Reid fell asleep at which point Morgan turned it off and read until he too fell asleep.

Reid, unsurprisingly, was awoken by Morgan from two nightmares early in the night. Morgan comforted him and Reid quickly fell back to sleep.

Late in the night (or early in the morning, depending on how one looked at it), Reid was roused from his slumber a third time by Morgan but it wasn't because he himself was having a nightmare. He was woken up by Morgan whimpering in his sleep.

Reid knew that it was better to let Morgan sleep through the nightmare. He wouldn't remember it in the morning. The only reason Morgan had been waking him up from his nightmares was because the older man knew from experience that Reid had violent nightmares and he could have hurt himself.

Reid watched as Morgan's face contorted and Morgan let out another whimper. The young agent wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to wake Morgan up so he wouldn't be suffering but he knew it was better to let him sleep through it.

Reid laid his hand on Morgan's arm, hoping that he would be able to calm the older man down without waking him. Morgan settled slightly, but his face still had a greatly pained look on it so Reid began talking to Morgan, telling him it was alright and to calm down, just like Morgan did after every one of his nightmares.

Morgan settled down even more as Reid continued speaking to him softly and, eventually, Reid could tell that Morgan had gotten through the nightmare. Reid kept his hand on Morgan's arm for a few more minutes to keep the nightmare away before he too fell back into an uninterrupted asleep.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Morgan woke to hear the quiet murmur of the television and Reid eating a bagel.

"Morning," Reid said through a mouthful of food. "There's a bagel and cream cheese for you, too."

"Thanks," Morgan said as he reached for his breakfast.

Reid swallowed his mouthful of food and asked, "How'd you sleep?"

"Alright," Morgan replied after he finished his first bite of the bagel. "You didn't have any more nightmares, did you? I didn't hear anything but I think I was pretty out."

"I didn't have any more nightmares," Reid said, "but you did."

"I did?" Morgan said in confusion. "I don't remember having one or waking up."

"I didn't wake you up," Reid said. "The best course of action when someone has a nightmare is to let it play out unless they become violent. You weren't so I calmed you down and the nightmare ended."

"Oh," Morgan said, slightly disconcerted that he had no memory of his night tome horror. "Thanks."

"The doctor is supposed to come give me my final examination in half an hour," Spencer Reid informed his coworker. "Then I'm going to need a ride home. I was hoping you would be able and willing to drive me."

"Well, duh, Pretty Boy," Morgan smirked. "Of course I'm driving you home. Prentiss and Rossi brought my car over the other day so we'd have a ride. Hope you don't mind, but we need to swing by my place so I can pick up some fresh clothes."

"Why do you need clothes?" Reid asked dumbfounded.

"Well, all I have here is what I am wearing and what I wore yesterday, which is dirty," Morgan said. "I'll need some more clothes and stuff for while I am staying with you."

"What are you talking about?" Reid asked.

"You didn't really think that we were going to let you stay alone, did you?" Morgan returned with a chuckle. "I'm sleeping on your couch at least 'til you can walk again. I'll stay as long as you want me too, though."

"You don't have to stay with me," Reid said. "I'll be fine."

"Don't BS me, Reid," Morgan said. "You won't even be able to walk for three or four weeks. How do you expect to cook for yourself or get into the bath by yourself," Reid blushed beet red at this, "or anything when you can't even stand up for more than a minute? You are gonna need help."

"What about Clooney?" Reid asked, trying to dissuade the older agent.

"Garcia said she would stay at my place and watch him while I stayed with you," Morgan answered. "I thought about having you stay with me but I thought that you might want to be in your own home after…being away. She and Prentiss both offered to stay with you too but I figured, you know, if you needed help washing up or getting dressed, you might feel more comfortable with me than showing one of them all your bits."

Reid looked down and felt anxiety well up at the mere thought of someone seeing him naked. He knew that neither Morgan nor Garcia or Emily would ever think about hurting him but he could help but remember his captor's face when Morgan had alluded to seeing him unclothed.

"If you would be more comfortable with Garcia or Prentiss," Morgan said slowly, noticing his friend's quicken breaths and the look of panic on his face, "I'll call one of them right now."

"No," Reid cried quickly. "No, I don't want them seeing me."

"Kid," Morgan said, "They have both already seen you. They visited, remember?"

"I mean, I don't want them to see me," he hesitated, then whispered, "naked."

"Oh," Morgan said, understanding the young man's outcry. "Are you sure you would be ok with me, though? I mean, you'll need help getting into and out of the tub and probably getting dressed. Are you sure…" He trailed off, leaving the elephant in the room hanging there: Are you sure you will be able to handle another man seeing you naked so soon after you were brutally raped?

"I know you would never hurt me," Reid whispered although he didn't sound very sure of himself. Intellectually, he knew he had nothing to fear from Morgan and that the older agent would probably rather die than hurt his best friend but he couldn't help but feel fearful of anyone seeing him in a state of undress.

"Of course not," Morgan assured the man who suddenly looked much younger than his years. "But when I was going through everything with Carl, I know that I couldn't stand being even in my underwear or a swimsuit in front of anybody. I used to go into the bathroom stalls in the locker room to change and I never showered. All the other guys made fun of me and called me names but I couldn't bear to let anyone see me. I knew they wouldn't do anything to me but that fear was still there."

"I'd rather it be you," Reid mumbled.

"Alright," Morgan agreed, dreading the first time he had to help Reid undress.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch," Reid said suddenly, not so subtly changing the topic of conversation.

"What?" Morgan said, confused but very aware of the blatant attempt at a subject change.

"I have a second bedroom," Reid said. "I used to have a roommate but he got engaged and moved in with his fiancé about 2 years ago. You can sleep in his old room."

"Oh," Morgan said, "sounds good. A bed is always better than a couch."

Before any more could be said, the doctor came in to give Reid his final check-up, exiling Morgan to the hall where he again began chatting with Beth, the cute nurse from the day before.

When Morgan was allowed to rejoin his friend in the hospital room, he saw a few differences. The soft casts had been replaced by hard plastic ones, like Reid had mentioned the day before. His IV was unhooked and hung uselessly on the rack. There was also a wheelchair in the corner, waiting for the incapacitated man to occupy it.

"Good to go?" Morgan asked.

"Yes," Reid said. "I just have to change and fill out some paper work."

"Alright," Morgan said. "Let me get your clothes for you."

He grabbed the duffle bag that Hotch had brought and grabbed the shirt, sweat pants, and boxers from the bottom. He turned around and let Reid slowly wiggle his way into the boxers and pants before he turned around and untied the hospital gown. Reid's breathing hitch slightly but he didn't say anything so Morgan kept going as if nothing had happened, something that the younger man was grateful for. Once the gown had been discarded, the older man helped his friend into the long sleeved shirt.

After Reid was fully clothed and all his possessions had been gathered into the duffle (including his gifts from Jack and Garcia), Morgan wheeled the wheel chair next to the bed and helped Reid scoot into it.

After a short stop at the nurse's station to fill out some discharge forms, the duo headed to the elevator, both glad to be leaving the hospital.

"Did that nurse just give you her number?" Reid asked when they were waiting for the elevator to reach their floor.

"Oh, Beth? Yeah, she did; why?" Morgan asked.

"Just wondering," Reid commented. "You guys tell me I need to be more conversational and it seemed like an appropriate topic to use for small talk."

"Oh," Morgan said, at a loss for anything else to say.

"She's pretty," Reid commented. "Are you going to ask her out?"

"Maybe," Morgan said. The empty elevator arrived and Morgan pushed Reid in, pressing the button for the first floor, "If I feel like going out. She's nice and she has a good sense of humor."

"Good," Reid said. "You shouldn't be stuck with me when you could be out with her."

"Hey, hey, hey," Morgan said as they exited the elevator. "I wouldn't be staying with you if I didn't want to." When Reid opened his mouth to further denigrate himself, Morgan said sharply but not unkindly, "I enjoy your company and I want to help out and I don't want to hear you ragging on yourself anymore. Got it?"

Reid didn't say any more and the two were soon at Morgan's SUV, and, after lifting a highly embarrassed Reid into the passenger side door, they were on their way to the older agent's home.

The car ride wasn't terribly long. There wasn't much conversation; both men were listening to the radio.

They pulled into the driveway of the decent sized, two story house. Morgan left the car, saying he would be back soon. A minute or so later, Reid saw Clooney at the gate. The dog cocked his head and stared at the SUV for for a second before bounding off.

Morgan returned with a large duffle bag that he threw in the trunk before they were again driving, this time to Reid apartment.


	13. Chapter 13

After a brief stop at the Chinese place near Reid's apartment to get some lunch, the friends arrived at their destination. Morgan helped Reid into his wheelchair and they entered the well-kept, nice looking building.

Thankfully, Reid's apartment building had no steps to get in the door and an elevator. They had no problem getting to the third floor apartment that Spencer Reid rented.

Morgan stepped around the man in the wheelchair and unlocked the door to the apartment. Once the door was open all the way, he stepped back around the chair and wheeled Reid into his living room.

Morgan informed the temporarily immobile man that he was going put their things away, go to the bathroom, and then he would get lunch ready. He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Reid alone in the living room.

The toys that had been scattered on the floor were gone. Reid imagined one of his teammates had been in and cleaned up a bit for him.

'Probably Garcia,' he thought. Morgan had mentioned something about her cooking some meals for him. She had probably brought them over and cleaned up while she was here. It seemed the kind of thing the big hearted computer tech would do.

As he looked around the room more, he began to feel terror and panic welling up in the pit of his stomach. Images of his tormentor flashed through his mind. Opening the door to see the man in the jumpsuit; turning to see the large man standing behind him and throwing a punch into his gut; Michaels rushing at him; the door bursting open while he fumbled with his gun to see the attacker wielding the heavy statue; the look of satisfaction and happiness as the sick man watched his victim slip into unconsciousness; the look of pleasure in his eyes as he saw Reid's pain and fear; the disgusting feeling of the sexual sadist rubbing against him; the feelings of pain, shame, and horror as the psychopathic torturer ripped into him.

All these memories swirled around and around Reid's mind. His breaths were coming short, quick gasps. His heart was racing so fast, it felt like it was about to break right through his rib cage. The room began to spin and he could feel himself trembling. He saw Morgan walk into the room and rush over to where he had left his wheelchair bound friend as soon as he saw him. Reid could hear Morgan calling his name loudly but it seemed like it was coming from very far away.

"Get me out of here, Derek," he gasped. "I need to leave. Get me out of here."

He vaguely heard Morgan say that he would and almost instantaneously, the chair began moving. He was soon out in the hall and heading farther and farther away from his apartment. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should be calming down but he wasn't. He didn't feel any better even though he was out of his apartment. In fact, his vision was beginning to darken at the edges.

Morgan took his distraught friend back outside and spent the next few minutes trying to calm the man's erratic breathing down and get him to focus. He was intensely worried at how his friend looked. His face was pale and sweaty and he looked like he was about to faint.

Just as Morgan was getting ready to call an ambulance, Reid began to breathe normally and some of the color came back to his face.

"What happened, man?" Morgan asked with concern.

"I'm not sure," Reid replied. He was tired and he felt achy. "I just started seeing all these—these images and memories in my mind."

Morgan was quiet for a moment. Then he asked slowly, "Of the attack?"

"And the other stuff," Reid added quietly.

"I think," Morgan said, "that you had a panic attack."

"Oh," Reid said though Morgan thought he sounded slightly confused.

Morgan was silent for a few more moments before inquiring, "What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?" Reid asked in reply.

"Do you want to try to go back in?" Morgan rephrased.

"No!" Reid said forcefully. "No, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Ok," the African-American man agreed quickly, noting his friend's distress at the thought. "We'll stay at my place. Just let me go get our stuff and we can leave."

He helped his lethargic man back into the SUV before he went back up to the third floor apartment. He grabbed his bag and went to his friend's room where he packed some sweat pants and pull over tops as well as undergarments, a pair of pajamas, and the left sneaker of a well-worn pair he found under the queen sized bed. He grabbed another bag from the closet before heading into the living room and filling it with as many books as would fit. He had quite a few books at his house but he knew that these books were like comfort items for the young genius.

Hands full, he made his way back to the ground floor and out to his vehicle. He found Reid, eyes closed, with his head resting against the door frame. He tried to be quiet but when he shut the trunk door, Reid started slightly and sat up.

Morgan walked around to the driver's side and opened the door.

"I got you some sweats and t-shirts for you to wear during the day since your usual stuff wouldn't work with the casts and pajamas, and underwear and stuff like that," he informed his friend. "And I got a bunch of books from your living room. Is there anything else you want?"

"There's a box on the shelf in my closet," Reid said softly. "It's from Amazon. Could you bring that?"

"Of course," Morgan said. "That it?"

"You might want to get the food Garcia made," he cracked a small smile. "If you don't, we might starve. Your sisters told me about your culinary prowess."

"One time!" the older man cried in mock annoyance as he headed back to the apartment.

He returned seven minutes later carrying two large lidded glass baking pans, a square baking pan, and a medium sized pot stacked one on top of each other. He placed them in the back of the SUV and ran up quickly to retrieve the box that he was almost certain contained the letters from William Reid.

He returned to the car and was pleased to see that Reid was slightly more alert. He turned the key in the ignition and they were soon back in Morgan's neighborhood. They pulled up in the driveway and Morgan hopped out to grab the wheelchair before putting his friend in it. Once they reached the porch, he walked up to open the door so he could carry the red faced agent inside.

Reid waited on the couch while Morgan brought in the various items from the car. Clooney had come to see what was going on and was now standing in the entrance to the hallway. Reid eyed the dog warily, waiting for the German shepherd to start barking at him like usually happened.

Apparently, this dog was different because after a moment of staring at the new occupant of his home, he hurdled to the couch and leapt up beside the brown hair man, rolling onto his back and exposing his underside, as if waiting for a good belly rub. Reid obliged apprehensively, waiting for the dog to snap at him but Clooney just closed his eyes and let his tongue loll out the side of his mouth.

"Looks like you got yourself a new best friend," Morgan chuckled when he saw the pair on the couch.

Reid started violently, whipping his head around at lightning speed to look at Morgan and Clooney flipped over onto his stomach, ears perked up to better observe his surroundings.

"Sorry," Morgan apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to—"

Reid cut him off, "No, its fine. It's not your fault."

Morgan wanted to say more but he didn't. Instead, told his new roommate that he was going to heat up there lunch and again disappeared from the room.

Reid waited for the other man to return, absentmindedly scratching Clooney's ears.

Reid noticed the scent of Fried Rice and Kung Pao chicken wafting from the kitchen. A minute later, Derek came back into the living room.

He was going to help Reid slide from the couch to the wheel chair when Reid stopped him.

"Let me use the crutch," he insisted.

"I don't know," Morgan hesitated. "You just got out of the hospital a couple of hours ago. Maybe you should wait a day or two."

"I'll be fine," Reid said, an air of stubbornness coloring his voice. "The doctor said I could use it to get around the house. Besides, I need to get some kind of exercise. I can't sit around all day for the next month. I'll get fat."

Morgan raised an eyebrow at him and said, "First of all, what are you, a teenage girl worried she won't fit into her prom dress? And secondly, I doubt that you have ever been anything but skinny. And third, I just don't want you to overdo it and hurt yourself."

"I'll be fine," Reid said, ignoring the comment about the prom dress. He was beginning to get irritated that Morgan was treating him like he was made of glass and might break at any second. "It's, like, 20 feet. The doctor said it was fine. Give me the damn crutch already."

Morgan huffed unhappily but handed Reid the crutch that was leaning against the wall near the door. He hovered by Reid, ready to catch him if it even looked like he might fall. Reid shot him a glare but Morgan didn't back down.

Reid successfully gimped from the living room to the kitchen without falling or needing Morgan's support.

They ate their lunch, talking with each other amicably, their previous tension forgotten.

Reid was still feeling off from the panic attack he had earlier that day. When he finished eating, he asked Morgan if he could take a nap, which Morgan agreed to, seeing how exhausted his young friend was.

He led Reid down the hall into his bedroom. Reid wouldn't be able to get to the guest rooms on the second floor but Morgan didn't particularly mind sleeping in one of them for a few weeks.

"This is your room," Reid said when he saw the room Morgan told him would be his for the next few weeks. "I can't take your room."

"Yes, you can," Morgan insisted. "Unless you want to be carried up and down the stairs whenever you get tired. And that isn't something I want to do. You may be skinny, Pretty Boy, but you aren't that light." He smiled so Reid wouldn't take the last comment seriously.

"I could get up there by myself," Reid tried, rather weakly. He knew Morgan wouldn't allow that. "Or I could sleep on the couch

"You have about a snowball's chance in hell of the one happening," Morgan said jokingly. "And there is no way I am making you sleep on that couch when I have two bedrooms with queen sized beds."

"I don't mind, man," Morgan said, nudging Reid in when he saw him still hesitating.

"Alright," Reid accepted. "But if you want back in here, just tell me."

"Just get into the bed," Morgan sighed, shaking his head at his friend's overly humble behavior.

Reid did. Morgan waited until he saw Reid had sat down on the bed and pulled off the sock and shoe off his foot.

Morgan was pulling the door shut when Clooney pushed his way into the room and hopped onto the bed. He lay down, his back against the backs of Reid's legs.

"Clooney," Morgan said sharply. The dog looked at him but didn't come as he usually did. "Clooney, come on."

"It's ok, Morgan," Reid said. "I don't mind it."

"Ok," Morgan replied. "Call if you need anything."

He left the room, leaving the door slightly cracked so he could hear Reid if he needed anything.


	14. Chapter 14

Morgan collapsed on his couch, the stress of the recent days catching up with him in one burst. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths before pulling his cell phone out.

"You've reached your goddess," Penelope Garcia answered. "How may I help you today, my chocolate god?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," Morgan smiled. "How ya doing?"

"I'm fine," she told him. "How's my little genius?"

"He's…" Morgan started but trailed off because he didn't really know.

"I don't know how he is," Morgan admitted. "He blew up and yelled at me to shut up and leave the day after you visited. He apologized and said he was overwhelmed by trying—trying not to let us see how much he was hurting and broke down and cried on me for almost an hour. That's the only time that he's shown any indication about how much this is affecting him except after his nightmares. He hasn't told what happened. I haven't even heard him admit that he was raped. Then today, when we went into his apartment, I went to put our bags in the bedroom and I came back to find him having a panic attack. We're staying at my house for now because I didn't know what else to do. He refused to go back in and I didn't think it was probably a good idea either."

"Honey," Garcia said, "I don't know what to tell you. I wish I had some magic cure that would make my baby boy all better again but I don't. It sounds like he's in denial. He's trying to pretend that nothing happened."

"I know," Morgan sighed. "I just don't know what to do."

"I think all any of us can do right now is just be there for him," Garcia said sadly. "He's going to have to have mandatory counseling, obviously. They would never let him back to work without a butt load of it. I've spent the last day and a half searching for someone for him. I made an appointment for Thursday at 11 with someone who specializes in rape victims. I sent the address to your inbox. I tried to find someone who specialized in law enforcement who had been traumatized on the job but that was pretty much for cops who had been shot or had a partner shot. Hopefully, the counselor can help him come to terms with what happened."

"I hope you're right, Penelope," Morgan sighed again, "I really hope you are."

There was a moment of sad silence between the two FBI employees before Garcia said, "So, I take it you don't need me to watch Clooney then?"

"No, I don't," Morgan answered. "But thanks for agreeing to do it."

"Not a problem, mon ami," she answered. "I am always happy to help."

"I know," he said. "That's one of the many things I love about you."

"Aww," she sighed in an exaggerated 'that's so sweet' tone. "I love you, too, Sweet Cheeks."

He chuckled before saying, "Well, I am kinda tired. Using a recliner for a bed is not conducive to a good night's sleep. I think I am gonna veg out and watch some TV while Reid is napping."

"Alright," she said. "Take good care of my baby, Derek. I'm counting on you."

"I'll do everything I can, Baby Girl," he vowed. "You can be sure of that."

He ended the call and set his phone on the coffee table. He flipped on the TV, keeping it low so that he didn't wake up his sleeping friend.

He found a movie he liked on and relaxed into his couch.

Thirty minutes later he was asleep.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Meanwhile, Spencer had begun to shift in his sleep. He moaned quietly and muttered unintelligible words to the subject of his nightmare.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Clooney could tell something was wrong. The new man on the bed was making funny noises, like his Derek did sometimes. After this happened, his Derek would wake up scared and sometimes cry. Lots of nights, he and his master would spend the night on the couch. He would doze off but whenever he woke, his Derek was still awake, gazing at the picture box.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Clooney wiggled his way to the other side of the man and laid himself along the man's front. The dog nudged at his companion's hand and managed to slide his head underneath so that Reid's casted arm was draped over the back of his neck. Clooney whined softly and licked the man's face in an effort to comfort him or, perhaps, rouse him from the nightmare.

Reid did not stir but as the dog kept whining and rested his head against the distraught man's chest, he calmed slightly. He didn't relax completely for a few more moments but soon he was resting peacefully.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Morgan woke to the sound of a buzzer. He looked around with a confused look on his face. He didn't remember falling asleep and that always disconcerted him. It was darker. The television was off and now that he was more alert, he could tell that the buzzing was coming from the direction of the kitchen. He got up from the couch and went to see what was going on.

Reid was turning the timer on his stove off. There was a casserole dish on top of the burners and now Derek could smell something delicious. It smelled like melted cheese and chicken.

"What are you doing?" Morgan asked and regretted it immediately. Reid started and nearly lost his balance. Morgan rushed over to keep him steady.

"Sorry, Kid," Morgan mumbled. He felt like an idiot for forgetting that Reid was more easily startled than he used to be.

"Its fine," Reid said brushing it off like it was nothing. "And I was heating up dinner. I woke up at six and I was a little hungry. You were still sleeping so I thought I would get it ready and wake you up when it was done."

"You shouldn't be doing that kind of stuff, man," Morgan chastised. "You only have one good arm and one good leg. That spells disaster for a person with a normal level of clumsiness. You are the king of klutzes. I don't need you falling over and knocking yourself into a coma on my watch; Garcia would, well, let's just say, ruin any hope of my momma getting grandkids outta me."

Reid cracked a smile at the joke but wasn't going to let the matter drop.

"I can do some stuff, Morgan," he insisted. "I'm capable of doing simple stuff like sticking a pan in the oven and taking it out. I was going to leave getting the plates and drinks to you because I know I wouldn't be able to so that but I could do this. I'm not going to take advantage of your hospitality and sit on my ass while you do everything for me; I can contribute, too."

Morgan wanted to tell him that he shouldn't be doing anything but he realized that one, that would go over like a lead balloon and two, Reid was right. He could help out around the house some.

"Alright, Pretty Boy," he sighed. Derek realized he had been doing a lot of that lately. "You win. But," he continued when Reid got a triumphant look on his face, "I still don't want you doing things where you are standing up unless I am around. I don't want you to fall and get hurt more. We'll come up with some stuff after we eat, if you want."

Reid looked less happy but agreed.

"What are we having?" Morgan asked as he got out some plates and glasses.

"Chicken mac and cheese," Reid replied from the kitchen table. "I didn't want stew, which is what's in the pot if you didn't know, the little pan has brownies in it, and I can't eat the other casserole, so it was mac and cheese."

"Why can't you eat the other casserole?" Morgan asked while he set the drinks and silverware at the table.

"It has squash and eggplant in it," the genius said. "I am highly allergic to both. Luckily, the pieces were big enough that I could tell what they were. If I had eaten it, I would have gone into anaphylactic shock."

"Really," Morgan said as he set the plates full of macaroni in front of Reid and himself. "I never knew that."

"Well, it never really came up," Reid responded before taking a bite of the steaming pasta. "This is delicious."

"So," Morgan said after he had taken a bite of the heavenly dish as well, "no pumpkin pie for you?"

"Nope," the skinny man said, wolfing down a few more bites. "It does make for an interesting Thanksgiving, though. When I was like, four or five, we went to my grandparent's house for the holiday."

He paused to take another bite and a sip of the water Morgan had given him before continuing.

"Well, my grandma made a pumpkin pie and I didn't want to eat it because it looked really gross," he said. "She wasn't that great of a cook. While my grandma went to get the napkins, my dad told me to take a few bites and that he would get me ice cream later if I did. I, of course, wanted the ice cream so I ate about three bites of it before I started to feel funny. I didn't say anything since I wanted the ice cream so I ate a few more bites."

He stopped to take a few more bites with Morgan staring at him in an attempt to hurry him along.

"My dad asked me if I was ok because I had, apparently, started sweating and gone pale," the man recanted. "I opened my mouth to answer but I could feel my throat start to close. My parents were beside themselves by this point. My granddad had gone to the kitchen, I guess to call an ambulance. My dad was shouting at me, asking me what was wrong. My mom and grandma were crying. The last thing I remember before I woke up in the hospital is my dad's face over me. I guess he laid me on the floor. He had tears in his eyes and I remember thinking that I had never seen him cry before."

Reid looked…conflicted for a long moment, in which Morgan didn't move. Abruptly, he snapped out of it and said, "Don't tell Garcia I didn't eat it. I don't want to make her feel bad."

Morgan nodded silently before the pair finished their meal without another word.


	15. Chapter 15

Morgan sent Reid to go pick out a DVD to watch while he quickly washed the plates and glasses. He dried the once again clean plates and put them back in their proper places. He put the macaroni in the refrigerator and took out two sodas.

When he got to the living room, he saw that Reid had already put a disk in the player and the menu screen was showing. When the older man sat down on the couch, Reid pressed the play button on the remote and the opening credits of _Donnie Darko _began. Morgan passed Reid the soda he had brought for him and they were soon enjoying the interesting tale about the boy and the giant bunny.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

A little over two hours later, the movie ended. Morgan stood and stretched his stiff limbs. Reid, who couldn't do much other than sit, stayed where he was.

"What should we do now, roomie?" Morgan asked.

"I, uh, should probably wash up," Reid said, his face heating up.

"Right," Morgan said. "Can you take the casts off to bathe?"

"Yeah," Reid answered, "as long as I don't really move them or anything. I'll have to cover the incisions with something to keep it from getting wet. Duct tape would work, if you have any of that. I should change the bandages, too."

"Ok," Morgan said. "I'll go run some water and grab the tape. Wait here and I'll help you into the tub."

Reid watched Morgan leave the room. As soon as Morgan had said he would help him in the tub, he felt the terror begin to rise up in him, just like earlier at his apartment. He felt his breath quicken but he consciously tried to control it. He couldn't have another panic attack.

'Morgan won't hurt me,' he said to himself. 'He cares about me. He's helping me. He won't hurt me.'

He repeated it over and over like a mantra. It didn't calm him down much but he did manage to keep himself from having a second panic attack.

Morgan came back into the room and saw the Reid looked a little pale and his breathing was a little faster and shallower than normal.

"Reid," he said softly. "What's going on? Talk to me."

"Nothing," the slightly distressed man said breathily. "I'm ok."

Morgan didn't believe it but he didn't think that pushing his friend would do any good. Reid rarely admitted when things were wrong. He kept them to himself. Morgan could only assume that because he never had anyone to talk to as an adolescent, he had learned to keep everything to himself and to never let on what was really going on with him.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Spencer," he said gently.

"I know that," Reid scoffed.

"I'm just going to help you change and get into the tub," Morgan continued like Reid hadn't said a word. "I'll leave and when you are done, I will come back and help you out of the tub. I'll let you dry yourself off and get into your pajamas by yourself as much as you can."

Reid didn't respond. He slowly pushed himself up from the couch using his good arm and his crutch. He hobbled to the bedroom, his shoulder hunching slightly, a sure sign that he was closing himself off in an effort to try and protect himself.

Morgan followed him cautiously. He didn't want to do anything to crowd the abused young man or make him uncomfortable any more than was unavoidable (he needed to bathe; right now, it had been over a week since he had had a proper bath).

Reid sat on the bed. Morgan stayed by the door, leaving a decent distance between them to make sure Reid did not feel in any way threatened by the other male presence in the room.

"Reid," the concerned friend said, "are you ready for me to help you change?"

Reid hesitated, biting his lip before nodding, short, jerky nods.

Morgan approached his friend carefully. When he was in front of the skinnier man, he crouched down so that Reid (who was looking intently at his toes) could see his face. He wasn't surprised that Reid was highly agitated and uncomfortable with the thought of being naked. Reid had almost never changed in front of him when they shared hotel rooms before he had been abducted. Now, he had almost expected Reid to refuse to get undressed and bathe in his clothes.

"Let's start with your shirt," Morgan suggested. Reid nodded, again with short, jerky movements.

Morgan let Reid do as much as he could but it was hard to get the shirt off over the bulky casts so the older man had to help him pull it off all the way. It was all he could do not to shut his eyes in sadness when he saw the inflamed but healing cuts criss-crossing the thin, pale chest and stomach.

Morgan didn't have to do much to help Reid get his pants off; all he had to do was tug them over the cast on his leg.

When Reid was just in his boxers, Morgan saw his pupils dilate and his breaths began to come quicker again.

"Calm down, Reid," Morgan said. When Reid didn't appear to have heard him, he said, "Spencer, listen to me; it's Derek. I'm not gonna hurt you. You can leave your boxers on in the bath. You can change them after you get out. I'll leave the room and you can do it. Is that ok?"

"Yeah," Reid whispered. "Yeah, that sounds good. I don't want to take them off."

"You don't have to," Morgan assured his broken friend. "I'm going to take the casts off now and then I'm going to put the duct tape over them. Lucky they shaved the hair around the incisions or it would hurt like a son of a bitch when it comes off."

Morgan quickly took the casts off, careful not to jostle the broken appendages. He took the roll of tape and ripped strips until he was sure that the bandages were completely covered. He then covered the bandages at the places where Dr. Elmoore had stitched some of the knife cuts so that they would not get infected either. They would come out on Wednesday at Reid's follow up with his regular doctor as would the stitches holding the surgical incisions closed.

Once that was done, he scooped his slight friend into his arms and took him into the bathroom. He gently set his friend in the tub and made sure everything he could possibly need was within arm's reach.

"Call when you're ready to get out," Morgan said as he turned to leave the room. "I'll be waiting in the bedroom." He pulled the door all the way shut and sat on his bed, waiting for Reid to be finished with his bath.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Reid knew it was irrational, but the second Morgan closed the door, he felt much of his anxiety and fear drain away. Morgan would never hurt him; he didn't have any reason to feel fear.

Of course, he knew that this was exactly how most…assault victims reacted. He had majored in psychology and he worked with victims on a semi-regular basis. Having an aversion to being unclothed was not uncommon.

He should be stronger than this. He knew the ins and outs of anxiety, PTSD, depression, and any other response to this kind of event occurring in one's life. He shouldn't be letting this get to him. He should be able to get over it.

Angry with himself for being weak, he grabbed the wash cloth Morgan had gotten for him and squirted a glob of body wash on it. It smelled spicy and a bit like the cologne Morgan used on nights he had a woman waiting for him somewhere.

He used his good arm to wash himself, not venturing past the waistband of his blue plaid boxers or above mid-thigh where the hems of the legs fell. He was very careful around the areas of his arm and leg that were broken, as well as the knife wounds on his chest and his stomach. They were healing well; parts were now no more than thin red lines that would fade in the coming weeks. Some were still scabbed over but they, too, would soon become red lines that would fade.

Once he was finished washing his skinny body, he moved on to his hair. Reid saw his own shampoo sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

'Of course,' Reid thought to himself. 'Morgan shaves his head. He wouldn't buy shampoo.'

He squeezed a quarter sized circle of shampoo onto his good hand and got to work scrubbing it into his long hair. It wasn't an easy task.

After five minutes of laborious washing, Reid determined that his hair was clean enough. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and dunked his head back into the water.

Being underwater was surprisingly relaxing. He hadn't ever noticed it before. It was silent. It was comforting. It felt like he was floating on a safe, trouble free cloud, where nothing bad would happen.

He let his face come to the surface but he stayed partially submerged. He liked the freedom he felt. He liked feeling safe.

He didn't know how long he stayed in there but it must have been a while because Morgan began calling his name through the closed door. He reluctantly sat up and immediately, the anxiety returned. He made a conscious effort to keep it from showing in his voice.

"You can come in," Reid called. "I'm done."

Morgan opened the door and entered the bathroom.

"What have you been doing in here?" Morgan chuckled. "I thought you turned into a fish or something."

"Humans can't turn into fish," the genius said in confusion. "Eons ago, fish-"

Morgan stopped him with another chuckle.

"I didn't mean it literally, Pretty Boy," he shook his head with a long-suffering sigh. "I meant that you have been in the water for forty five minutes. That's kinda long. You know, fish live in the water… Get it?"

"Not really," Reid admitted.

Morgan just chuckled and shook his head again.

He helped Reid out of the tub and maneuvered him to sit on the closed toilet. Reid grabbed the towel from its resting place draped over the sink and began drying himself off.

When he was dried off, Morgan again picked him up (much to Reid's chagrin) and set him down on the bed. He had placed another towel on the bed so he could sit without soaking the mattress.

Once Reid was situated on the bed, Morgan grabbed some gauze and antibiotic ointment and let Reid re-bandage himself. His duct tape idea had worked perfectly. The bandages came off when Reid pulled the tape off but they did not have one drop of water on them.

Once the bandages were reapplied and Morgan had fastened the casts, the dark skinned man handed his pale companion the pair of pajamas he had packed as well as a fresh pair of boxers. He left the room to give his friend some privacy but told him to call if he needed any help.

Reid, unsurprisingly, didn't call for help. When he emerged from the bedroom a bit later, he was in a pair of green flannel PJ pants and a baggy black t-shirt. It had taken quite a bit longer than normal for him to get dressed but Morgan wasn't complaining. If it made Reid feel better to do it on his own, he would let him take all day to get dressed.

"You wanna do anything or are you ready to go to sleep?" Morgan asked.

"We could do something," Reid said. "If you want to, that is."

"Sure," Morgan agreed amicably. "I'm not all that tired yet. You know, because of that nap I accidentally took."

They walked back into the living room and sat on the couch.

"What should we do?" Morgan asked his friend when the young man didn't say anything.

"I'm not sure," Reid answered.

"Wanna continue our game of Truth?" Morgan asked. "That anecdote about the pie makes me wanna know what else I don't know about you."

"Ok," Reid agreed. He would admit that he was looking forward to learning more about his best friend. He knew the man he was now but Derek Morgan was not one to share much. Reid realized that he didn't know much about his friend's life before they started working together. There was the odd story or tale here or there and, of course, there was the terrible revealing of the heinous crimes against Morgan by Carl Buford but there was still much he didn't know about the Chicago-born man. That was something that needed to change.


	16. Chapter 16

"My turn, right?" Morgan said. Reid nodded.

Morgan thought for a second. "What is your favorite memory of being a kid?" he asked, finally.

Reid had to think for a moment.

It certainly hadn't happen at school. The only good thing that ever occurred at school was his graduation.

It had to be before his dad had left. After that, he couldn't remember any truly happy events. There had been moments of happiness, like when his mother would read to him, when he and his friend Jeff would play, when he graduated (high school and college)…

After all the pain his dad had caused by leaving him, it had been so much easier remember all the bad things. His memories of his childhood were filled with yelling and crying and bullying and feeling like he didn't belong. He could easily remember all the bad; it wasn't as easy to remember the good.

But suddenly, he remembered something. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten it. He could remember ever having as much fun or feeling as normal as he did then.

"You in there?" Morgan asked, waving a hand in front of Reid's face.

"Yeah, sorry, I just had to think about it for a minute," Reid said, snapping out of his recollection.

"Got an answer for me or do you give up?" Morgan asked with humor in his eyes. "I have some pretty good ideas of what I would choose if I won."

"You aren't going to win that easily," Reid bantered back. "I've got an answer."

"Let's hear it, then," Morgan challenged.

"It's the time I went on vacation," Reid began. "I was like nine, I think. I had an animal thing going on. I read about them obsessively. I had my dad take me to the zoo, like, four times in two months. I wanted him to take me more but, well, he had work and my mom... Well, I had Monday off for some teacher in service day. I was expecting to, you know, just hang around with my mom but my dad woke me really early, like, at dawn, on Saturday and told me we were going somewhere. I couldn't figure out what was going on. He was supposed to work. I asked him and he said that he was taking off for the day. You have to understand, he _never _took off. I think he did once when I was six and I was really, really sick and my mom had been having a bad couple days. He didn't think she would be able to take care of me, I guess.

"Anyway," Reid said, realizing he had been rambling, "he told me to get dressed and then come to the living room. I did and he and Mom were sitting on the couch, whispering to each other. When they saw me, they stopped talking and stood up. We went to the car and drove. After a while we stopped at McDonalds for breakfast but then we were on our way again.

"I asked them a bunch of times where we were going but they just told me to entertain myself with the stuff they had brought for me or to take a nap because it was a surprise and they weren't telling.

"Eventually, I figured out we were going to California from signs but we didn't know anyone in California so I still didn't have any clue.

"I finally figured it out when we pulled into the parking lot of the San Diego Zoo. You should have seen me, Morgan," he smiled, remembering the happiest time in his life. "I was bouncing up and down in my seat and squealing like a girl and my parents were smiling like crazy."

He frowned suddenly. He wished that there had been more weekends like that one for him.

"What happened next?" Morgan pressed when he saw the abrupt change in demeanor.

"Oh," the other man said, "right. We went in, just as the zoo was opening. We were met by a tour guide and he asked if I was ready to start my private tour. I started jumping up and down and my parents were holding hands and grinning. The tour guide told me all kinds of facts about the animals, answered all my questions, and even told me funny stories about things the animals had done. Then, they let me go back and feed some of the animals.

"The next day, we went to SeaWorld and I got to pet one of the orcas and a Bottle-nosed dolphin and a Beluga whale. My dad went on both of the rides with me. My mom said she was a little queasy so she waited for us on a bench.

"On Monday, we spent the morning and early afternoon at the beach," he continued. "We had a picnic for lunch. We ate fried chicken and potato salad and I wished that the weekend would never end.

"I've always kind of wondered why they were so happy that weekend," Reid mused. "I mean, my mom was _never_ that happy, calm, and normal and I don't remember ever seeing my dad that happy about anything."

"They were probably just happy to see you happy," Morgan said.

"No, it was more than that," Reid was positive. "It lasted for almost two weeks. Then one night I came home from having dinner at my friend Jeff's and my mom was crying. Dad told me that mom was sick and needed to go to the hospital and that one of our neighbors was coming to stay with me for a while. They got home after I was in bed but I was still awake. I could hear her crying and my dad was talking to her really softly so I couldn't tell what he was saying. They never told me what was wrong with my mom but she got a lot worse after that. This was about six months before he left.

"Did you have any pets before Clooney?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," Morgan said, still thinking about the strange tale Reid had just told. "A whole slew of them. We had dog, a little white mix my parents got at the pound a few years after they got married. Her name was Snowball. She died when I was seven. I had a hamster and some fish off and on throughout the rest of the time I was a kid. I found a cat outside my apartment my junior year of college and I had him for nine years. I called him Thief because he used to jump on the table and eat food off my plate if I didn't watch him. After he died, I got Clooney."

Morgan got a sly grin on his face and asked, "Have you ever kissed a girl, besides Lila Archer? And if you have, what happened?"

Reid blushed a dark pink color and averted his eyes from Morgan's face.

"Come on, Pretty Boy, fess up," Morgan teased.

"I believe that gentlemen don't kiss and tell," he tried but Morgan wouldn't have it.

"If you do that, you lose," he warned. "I think I know what I'll do. It involves Garcia's Photoshop and-"

"Ok," Reid cried. "Ok, I'll tell.

"The first time I got kissed was when I was sixteen," he began. "I was looking for this guy I was supposed to tutor and I saw him in the park across the street from the library with a ton of other people. I went to get him but this really drunk girl came over and started kissing me for no reason."

"Woah," Morgan was shocked. "I had some wild things happen to me in college but none of them are that out there. Usually I had to talk to a girl before she would make out with me."

"Yeah, well..." Reid scratched his head, feeling a bit awkward.

"Your turn," Morgan said.

"Don't you want to hear about the first time I kissed a girl?" Reid asked, confused.

"You just told me," Morgan said slowly, a frown appearing on his lips.

"No," Reid corrected in a tone that said he thought Morgan was a bit slow, "I told you about the first time a girl kissed me. Completely different."

"Alright, Casanova," Morgan teased, "out with it."

"Well," he said, "When I was eleven, this new family moved in across the street. They had a daughter my age. Her name was Eve and she was like, the prettiest girl I had ever seen. I didn't talk to her at first because I thought she wouldn't like me but one day when I was outside reading, she comes up and asks me to play. I tried to tell her no but she just grabbed my arm and dragged me to the park. We played every day after school. Then one day, she said that she saw her sister Stella and Mike, her sister's best friend, kissing.

"I told her that they were probably dating and she said 'But they're best friends!' I replied by telling her that best friends could date and then she said 'So, we could be boyfriend and girlfriend?'

Morgan smirked widely.

"I said yes, not realizing what she meant. Then she said 'So, can I be your girlfriend and you be my boyfriend?' Well, you know me; I'm always awkward around girls and I was then, too. I stammered out that yes, we could and then she says 'Well, now you have to kiss me.' I stood there with my mouth hanging open for like, a whole minute before she frowned and started getting upset because she thought I didn't like her.

"I told her I'd never kissed a girl before and she said that it was too bad, we were boyfriend/girlfriend now and I had to. So I did. We 'dated,'" Reid made air quotes with his good hand, "until we were about 13. Her dad got transferred to Phoenix, so they moved. I did kiss her a few more times, though, and without her telling me to."

"Seriously?" Morgan said. "_You_ kissed _her."_

"I know I am not a whiz when it comes to dating but, believe it or not, I have dated before," Reid said, a bit hurt that Morgan thought he was such a geek that he couldn't get a girlfriend.

"I didn't mean it like that," Morgan insisted, as if he could read Reid's mind. "I just meant that I was too shy to even talk to a girl when I was 11, much less kiss one."

Reid wasn't sure if he believed the other man, but he let it go. He was too tired to get angry.

"When was your first kiss?" the younger man asked.

Morgan looked uncomfortable for a moment before he said, "Uh, I was 22. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

"Twenty-two?" Reid said in disbelief. "You seriously expect me to believe you were twenty two before you had your first kiss?"

"I didn't really date much in high school or college," Morgan said vaguely.

It took Reid a moment to understand what Morgan meant. When he did, he felt terrible for bringing up those memories.

"Morgan," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Its fine, Kid," Morgan said firmly (but not meanly), closing the topic. "You gonna answer?"

"What? Oh, yeah," he yawned, "I don't know. Somewhere in Europe. Lots of fascinating history there."

"Why don't we call it a night?" Morgan said, yawning too. "I'm beat."

"Alright," Reid agreed, letting out a lion sized yawn. He pushed himself up with his crutch. "Good night."

Clooney got up from his spot on the floor and trotted after the slowly departing man.

"Traitor," Morgan said to the dog good-naturedly. "Night, Reid. Leave your door open so I can hear you if you need anything in the night."

"Morgan," Reid practically whined but he shut up when Morgan gave him a look that said he wasn't going to win this one.

Morgan headed up the stairs after he was sure Reid had made it to the bedroom without incident and settled into the guest room, waiting for the nightmares to begin.


	17. Chapter 17

Morgan was pulled from his slumber but he didn't know why. He couldn't hear anything or smell anything strange. Then he realized what it was.

Clooney was standing next to the bed, pawing the mattress and whining softly.

Immediately, Morgan threw off the covers and rushed out of the room. He nearly tumbled down the stairs when he tripped but managed to catch himself.

He slowed at the door and saw Reid twisting his head, moaning something about Henry and not hurting him.

Clooney stood beside his master for a second, eyeing the troubled man before he pushed his way into the room and leapt onto the bed. He belly crawled his way towards Reid's face and licked it. When Spencer didn't awaken, he turned to look at his Derek and whined pleadingly.

"Reid," he called. Nothing changed, except that Clooney's whining intensified slightly.

"Reid!" he tried louder. At this, Reid began to thrash around and Clooney hopped down to avoid being hit.

He approached the bed carefully and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, both in an effort to rouse him from the night terror and to limit his movement.

"Spencer, wake up!" he said loudly.

His eyes snapped open and, even in the dark, Morgan could see the terror and shame within.

"Derek?" he whispered brokenly.

"Yeah, Kid," he said quietly.

Reid sat up and scooted back until his back was against the headboard. When he didn't say any more, Morgan cautiously sat down on the edge of the bed. Clooney followed his master, jumping onto the other side of the bed and laying with his head on Reid's leg.

"You wanna talk about it?" Morgan inquired softly so as not to startle or seem threatening to the fearful man.

Reid still didn't say anything. With his good hand, he began to pet the large dog's head.

The only sound that could be heard in the room for several minutes was Reid's shaky breaths.

"Spencer," Morgan said after about ten minutes had gone by in silence. "I know that it might not seem like it right now, but talking about it helps."

"I'm fine," Reid whispered. "Go back to bed."

"Like hell," Morgan said a bit more harshly than he intended to. Reid started and tried to curl into himself, a feat which proved difficult with two bulky plastic casts.

"I'm sorry," Morgan said gently, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. "I didn't mean to scare you but I know that you aren't fine and it hurts that you think you have to pretend to be."

"I'm not pretending," Reid insisted, albeit rather weakly. "It happened but you guys found me and Henry and we are fine now. He's back with JJ and Will and I am here and as soon as I get these damn casts off, I'll be out of your hair, so to speak, and back to normal."

"Reid," the saddened man sighed, "look, we both know the stages of grieving and you are in denial right now. Tell me you can't see that," he challenged.

Reid said nothing.

Morgan sighed again. He knew that Reid would talk when he was ready but it was hurting him to see his friend in such misery and terror, night after night but act like nothing is wrong during the day. He was so frustrated at the situation; he wanted so badly to say or so something that would make it better.

"What can I do?" Morgan asked. "What can I do to help you?"

Reid didn't speak at first. Morgan thought he wasn't going to say anything but he did.

When Reid spoke, he sounded so like a frightened child and it broke Morgan's heart to hear the absolute despair in the whisper.

"Could you just, maybe, stay here for a while?"

Morgan could hear the tears in his voice. He scooted up so that he was sitting next to Reid, his back also against the headboard. He lay his hand on top of his friend's casted one, trying to pour as much comfort into the small gesture as he could.

"As long as you want," he promised.

The two sat there in the position for a while. Reid sniffled occasionally but that was the only sound aside from their breathing and the now slumbering dog's soft snoring.

Morgan wasn't sure how long they had been sitting like that when Reid began to cry. At first, Morgan could just see a slight glimmer on the prominent cheek bone of the man but it very shortly turned into heart wrenching sobs.

Reid moved his hand out from Morgan's and pulled the other off of Clooney's furry head. He buried his face in them as his body was wracked with sobs.

Morgan slowly (so as not to startle his distraught friend) moved his hand to Reid's left shoulder. When Reid did not move away or say anything, he slid it around his back and let it rest on his other shoulder. When there was still no protest from Reid, the older man gently pulled the other to him and held him as he cried.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Some time later, Reid fell asleep, drained. Morgan sat holding him for a little while longer to make sure he was asleep before moving the smaller man into a more comfortable sleeping position.

Reid held onto his tear soaked shirt. When Morgan shifted his hold on the sleeping man so he could lay down, Reid's iron grip slackened and Morgan was able to extricate himself from his sleeping friend.

He pulled the covers up over the man and Clooney immediately crawled up to lay at Spencer's side.

Morgan left the room, leaving the door wide open. He went down the hall, past the half bath for guest use, and removed a couple blankets and a pillow from the closet at the end of the short hall.

He walked to the living room and set up camp on the couch. If Reid needed him again, he was going to only be a few feet away.

He lay down and pulled the covers up to his chin, mind filled with memories of his own horrors and the events of the past terrifying few days.


	18. Chapter 18

Reid awoke with sore eyes. It was a feeling reminiscent of the many nights he had cried himself to sleep after his father left.

He sat up and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It said it was just past ten. He swung his legs around to the side of the bed. He grabbed his crutch and limped towards the living room. It was empty so he went into the kitchen, Clooney following close behind him.

The kitchen was empty, too. At first, he thought that Morgan was still asleep but then he saw a folded piece of paper on the table with his name on it. He sat down and picked the note up so that he could read it.

_Reid _(the note began)

_I'm out of milk and a couple other things so I ran to the store. I'll be back soon and I'll get us something for breakfast. Call me if you need anything._

_Morgan_

_P.S. TRY NOT TO FALL AND KILL YOURSELF WHILE I AM GONE._

Reid felt the corners of his mouth turn slightly upwards at the post script.

While he waited for his friend to return, he got himself a glass of water. He hadn't realized it when he woke up but he was parched. After draining the glass in three large gulps, he stood to get another.

As he was facing the sink, Reid heard a creak behind him. His breath caught in his throat. In his mind, he returned to the moment when he was getting Henry's juice. He turned around, half expecting to see his attacker behind him.

It was only Clooney. The dog stood in the doorway, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and tail wagging.

Reid felt like a complete idiot for being afraid of a floorboard creaking. He felt even more like an idiot for even thinking something as stupid as that Michaels could be behind him. Hotch had shot the man. He was dead.

He felt the humiliation well up and turn his cheeks pink. He hated being so weak. He was supposed to be strong. He was an FBI agent. He was a genius. He had taken care of his sick mother for eight years. He had been strong then. Why couldn't he be strong now?

He didn't have much time to consider the reason because Morgan returned from the store. The door opened with a click and Morgan called out to him so Reid wouldn't be frightened.

"I hope you are in the mood for fried eggs, bacon, hash browns, and pancakes," Morgan said when he entered the kitchen and saw Reid standing by the sink. He set two Styrofoam containers on the table and moved to the refrigerator to store the milk, orange juice, and eggs that he had bought.

"That's fine," Reid said.

Morgan thought Reid sounded a little strange but he decided it was probably just from the awful night he had had.

"Want some milk or juice?" Morgan asked.

"Some milk would probably be good," Reid replied, taking a seat. "Calcium is essential to bone growth."

Morgan poured him a glass and took a seat across from him. They both opened the containers and began to eat.

"How's your mom been?" Morgan asked conversationally.

"Oh, crap," Reid said, remembering that his mother hadn't heard from him since before the—since the day before his vacation started. "I haven't written her in over a week. Damn, I have to check my answering machine to see if anyone from her hospital called me."

He made to get up but Morgan said, "Chill, Kid. Eat your food and then you can call. Another half an hour isn't going to make a difference."

Reid agreed and resumed his meal.

As soon as he had finished forty minutes later, he hobbled back to Morgan's bedroom that he was currently occupying so he could call his answering machine and, most probably, his mother's hospital.

He was correct. His mother's hospital had called him twice since his last letter. Both messages asked him to call when he could because his mother was extremely worried about him and agitated.

He dialed the number of his mother's doctor and after three rings, he picked up.

"Hello, this is Spencer Reid," the young man said.

"Oh, Spencer," Dr. Norman exclaimed. "I'm glad you called. We were beginning to think something had happened to you."

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to return your calls until now," he said, unsure of what to say to explain why he hadn't written or called. "Something happened with work and I wasn't able to write or call."

"Are you alright?" Dr. Norman asked with concern. Everyone at the sanitarium felt as if they knew the boy from his mother's extensive tales and descriptions of him and his work.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Reid said nonchalantly. "How's my mother?"

"She's extremely worried about you," Dr. Norman informed Spencer. "At first, she was going on about how the 'fascists' had done something to you and she had to be sedated twice she got so agitated but she's been doing really well these past two days. I haven't seen her this…well, normal in years which is very surprising considering how stressed she has been from worrying about you."

Reid felt immense guilt at worrying his mother so much. He hated when she was upset.

"Let me go get her," the doctor said. "She'll be so pleased to talk to you."

"No!" Reid tried to say but the man on the other line had already left.

He didn't want to talk to his mother, not right now. She could always tell when something was wrong with him, when she was lucid. He didn't know how she did it and when he asked, the only response he ever got was 'A mother knows…'

'But nothing is wrong,' he told himself. 'You're fine; that's what you keep telling Morgan. She won't know because nothing is the matter.'

'But it is,' a little voice in his head told him. 'Something is terribly wrong.'

'It's not,' he insisted but even he didn't believe that.

Before he could think on it any more, he heard his mother's voice and it made him want to cry. He hadn't realized how much he missed his mother or how much he needed to hear her voice until just now.

"Spencer?" she said, sounding uncertain and scared. "Spencer, baby, are you there?"

"Yeah, Mom," he said softly, trying to keep from crying in relief, "I'm here."

"Why haven't you been writing me?" she asked, still sounding scared.

"I couldn't," he said. "I—something happened with work and I couldn't."

There was a long silence and Spencer thought that perhaps she had hung up or left the phone but then she spoke again.

"What happened to you, my darling boy?" the mother asked in a voice so sad and yet so full of love for her son that Spencer couldn't help but let a few of the tears in his eyes fall silently down his cheeks.

"Nothing, Mom," he tried to deny but she wouldn't hear it.

"Don't lie to me, Spencer," Diana said gently. "A mother knows."

He sniffled slightly and said, "I'm sorry."

"Just tell me what happened, son," his mother said softly. "Nothing can be so terrible to tell me. I'm your mother."

Spencer hadn't been planning to tell her anything about what had happened which sounded completely ridiculous when he really thought about it. But it was his mother; he told her everything. She was the one person in the world who he knew would love him no matter what.

But he still couldn't talk about it. It still felt like a raw, open wound and telling would be like rubbing salt in it.

"Spencer," his mother said.

Her voice sounded so sweet and loving, something he almost never had the pleasure of hearing that he felt the protective wall of denial he had built around his feelings start to crack and crumble.

But he still couldn't tell his mother everything. He didn't know why. He tried to make the words come out but it was like they got stuck in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, they just would come out.

"Spencer?" his mother was beginning to sound worried.

"I'm here, Mom," Spencer sniffled.

"My boy, what is so terrible that you can't bear to tell me?" she asked.

"I—my godson, Henry and I—we were kidnapped," he managed to whisper, "by the half-brother of a man I shot four years ago."

On the other end, he heard his mother gasp softly.

"Are you ok?" she whispered.

"No," he admitted. The word was so simple and innocuous but it felt like a weight had been lifted from him. There was still a great burden weighing him down but just admitting to his mother that he had been attacked was liberating.

"I'm not ok," he said. All at once, he began to cry; nothing like the heart wrenching sobs he had after his horrific nightmares but he had become overwhelmed by the emotions he had been trying to protect himself from. "He—he hurt me. He told me that if I didn't let him hurt me, he would hurt Henry. I have some cuts and a broken arm and leg. My team found us after a few days and I was in the hospital for a while. That's why I couldn't write."

He heard his mother gasp again and then there was silence for a split second before he heard her begin to cry.

"Mom?" he said, slightly distressed. "Mom, please don't cry."

"Oh, my baby, how I wish I was there and could make it all right again," she cried. "Of course I am going to weep for the pain you have suffered. You are my child; your pain is my pain."

Spencer didn't know what to say. His tears tapered off and he waited for his mother to regain composure.

It took a few minutes but his mother did calm.

Still sniffling, she said, "That's not all, is it?"

"Yes, it is," he said, hoping he was doing a better job of lying than usual.

Diana Reid did not believe her son for a second. Something else had happened and she hoped with all her might that he wasn't trying to hide what she was afraid he was hiding.

He would tell her when he was ready. She had never pushed her son to do or be anything and she wasn't going to start now.

"I wish we could talk longer, Spencer," she said, "but I have to go to my group therapy session. Promise me that you will write me. Call too. I'll make sure that I get to talk to you."

"Ok, Mom," he replied.

"I love you, my little boy," Diana said softly. "Come see me when you can."

"I love you, too, Mom," Spencer said, a few tears leaking from the corners of his brown eyes. "I miss you. I'll try to come as soon as I can."

"Goodbye, Spencer," his mother said to him.

"Bye," he said, wishing more than anything that he was with his mother. She could always make him feel better with a hug and a good reading session.

* * *

Ok, so I know that I rarely leave notes but I feel the need to leave one. I need some review love! I haven't gotten nearly enough in the last few chapters.


	19. Chapter 19

Reid went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face to try and rid himself of the remnants of the tears he had shed.

After drying his face, he went to the living room to see Morgan sitting on the couch, reading a book by Vonnegut. Clooney was lying with his head in his owner's lap, getting a good ear scratching.

When Morgan heard the thumping of his friend's crutch, he looked up. He saw the red around his eyes but said nothing about it.

"Hey," was the only thing he said.

Red sat down heavily at the other end of the couch. Clooney stood from his place and turned to face his new friend. Reid absentmindedly began rubbing Clooney's head which pleased the German shepherd very much.

"I really miss her," Reid told his friend. "I haven't seen her since the Riley Jenkins case."

"Have you ever thought about moving her somewhere around here?" Morgan asked. "You would be able to see her more."

Reid was quiet for a moment.

"I never wanted to see her more often before," he admitted, ashamed of himself. "You have no idea how hard it is to see her when she isn't…herself. It's like looking into a crystal ball and seeing what I could become any day.

"But when I was in that shed, I had a lot of time to think," he continued. "I thought that I was going to die before you found us and I promised myself that if Henry and I made it out alive, I would visit her more. It might be scary to see what I could become but it was a lot scarier to think that we would never see each other again and all she would remember is that I never visited her and that she would think I didn't visit because I didn't love her. Maybe moving her closer to me would be the best way to keep that promise."

"We can look into some places for her," Morgan said. "And I can't believe that she would ever think you don't love her with all the letters you write her."

"I don't know if she'll want to come," Reid said. "She's spent her whole life in Las Vegas. She grew up twenty minutes from where we lived."

"I bet she would come for you," Morgan said confidently.

"Maybe," Reid said thoughtfully.

"Hotch called while you were on the phone with your mom," Morgan said, seeing that Reid was done talking about his mother. "He's going to come over at two; he says he needs to talk to you."

"Terrific," Reid muttered.

"What?" Morgan asked.

"He's probably coming to tell me that they don't think I'll be able to do my job anymore," Reid said unhappily.

"Oh, come on," Morgan scoffed. "I am sure that's not the reason. You know that you are going to have to be off for a while because you are injured and that you'll have mandatory therapy for a while, like after Georgia but I am sure that's all he wants to talk to you about. You know, how long you have to be off and all that."

Reid just grunted softly, not sure if he believed Morgan or not.

"Garcia's already found someone for you to talk to," Morgan commented when Reid didn't really respond. "It's someone who specializes in working with people who have been raped."

Reid didn't say anything but the look on his face turned to one of pain. He focused on petting Clooney, who was now dozing, half of his large body on the skinny man's lap.

"It really does help," Morgan continued. "After you guys found out what happened to me, I went to a therapist for a while. Talking with someone who you don't really know can really help you figure things out and get everything together. They don't know you so you don't worry about them judging you. Plus, they can give you advice about how to cope and work through what happened."

Reid stayed focused on Clooney, giving no indication that he had heard Morgan.

"Garcia made an appointment for you on Thursday at 11," he informed his friend.

Still nothing.

Morgan gave up. If Reid didn't want to talk, he couldn't make him. He flipped on the TV and turned on a basketball game, hoping that would prompt Reid to ask him questions about how the game was played or that he would complain that he didn't like sports.

It didn't work. Reid just kept staring at the dog on his lap and scratching the dog's ears.

That was how they stayed until Hotch arrived.

At exactly two p.m. Hotch knocked on the door and Morgan went to let him in. He led Hotch to the living room before he excused himself.

The Unit Chief sat down in the spot Morgan had vacated. Reid looked at his boss but kept his hand on Clooney's head, as if he was drawing strength from the German shepherd.

"How are you doing?" Hotch asked.

"Alright," Reid answered. "My ribs still hurt some but they sent me home with some prescription pain killers. Don't worry, Hotch," he said when he saw the other man open his mouth, "they aren't narcotics. It's a prescription NSAID called Ketorolac.

"I'm _never _going to turn to that again, Hotch," Reid finished with conviction.

"Good," was all Hotch said in reply.

"So," Reid said, looking down at the dog again, "why're you here? To tell me that I can't work at the BAU anymore because I have been traumatized?"

"Of course not," Hotch said. "That's ridiculous. You may have been traumatized but I know you. You are one of the strongest people I know; you will get through this and come out the other side. Your family won't let it happen any other way. We need you."

"I'm sure you can find another genius to work for you," Reid muttered, convincing himself that Hotch meant they needed him for his knowledge.

"We don't want another genius," Hotch said, slightly hurt that Reid thought the only reason they wanted him to recover was because they wanted him was for his academic gifts. "We want you. Not just your intelligence; we want you for you. You are a part of our family and you can't be replaced."

Reid still looked at the dog. Hotch took the lack of rebuttal as acceptance so he continued with what he needed to tell his youngest team member.

"I came to talk to you about when you can come back to work," Hotch said. "I talked about it with Strauss and—"

"You told Strauss?" Reid almost shouted.

"I had to, Spencer," Hotch said calmly. "We spent two days at the office when we were supposed to be on vacation. I shot and killed someone. You were in the hospital and won't be able to work for weeks."

"How much did you tell her?" he asked quietly.

Hotch hesitated, knowing that his friend and coworker didn't want anyone to know.

"I had to tell her everything," he said apologetically.

"Everything?" Reid whispered shakily. "Even…?"

"Yes," Hotch confirmed.

Reid gave a shaky sigh and asked, "What did she say?"

"She was shocked and upset that one of her agents had been hurt so badly," the older man said. "We agreed that you should be off for at least three months at which point, you will have a psych evaluation. You will also have to attend counseling with someone for six months, to be continued at your discretion. Based on the eval and a report from your counselor on whether they think you are ready to come back to work, you can come back then."

"Ok," Reid agreed softly. He knew there was no point in arguing. He wanted to get back to work right away but he wouldn't be able to fly or be in the field for two months and he knew that there was nothing he could say to get Hotch to at least let him work at the BAU with Garcia.

"We just want you to get better," Hotch told his friend.

"I know, Hotch," Reid whispered. "I'm sorry for accusing you of just wanting me for my intelligence. I know you guys care about me."

"I know," Hotch assured him.

Reid said nothing so Hotch kept talking, if only to fill the silence.

"Garcia wants to come over to see you," Hotch said. "I was talking with her earlier and she said that she, her words, not mine, misses her little baby genius boy."

Reid smiled. He loved Garcia; she could always make him smile and feel like nothing was wrong.

"I miss her, too," Reid said softly.

Neither man had anything to say so, after a few moments of awkward silence, Hotch stood and said he needed to speak with Morgan and then he had to get back to Jack. Reid bid him farewell and continued to scratch a very complacent Clooney's head and neck.

He heard the door snap shut a few minutes later and Morgan returned to the living room.

"What did Hotch want?" Reid asked.

"Just to tell me that I had off until your casts come off in six weeks or so and longer if need be," Morgan replied.

"You don't have to-" Reid began but quieted when Morgan gave him a look that clearly said, 'No way are you getting rid of me.'

"I have to be off for three months," Reid said unhappily, "maybe more, if I can't pass my psych evaluation or if the therapist I have to see says I can't handle work."

"I am sure that you will pass," Morgan said encouragingly. "You're strong and you have lots of people who love you that are going to help you. And three months isn't so bad. Elle was off for four, wasn't she? And, for at least half of that time, yours truly is here to keep you company!" He grinned widely, trying to cheer his friend up.

"Oh, God, I'm going to go insane!" Reid muttered in fake exasperation.

Morgan jokingly glared at Reid.

"I'm going to get you for that, Pretty Boy," Morgan growled.

Reid smiled briefly before his face turned serious.

"I really appreciate you letting me stay with you, Morgan," Reid said sincerely. "I'm not sure how I would have managed if you weren't helping me."

"No thanks are necessary, man," Morgan deflected. "I am happy to help; that's what friends are for."

"Still," the injured man insisted. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Morgan replied.

They were quiet for a moment.

"Do you mind if I lay down for a while?" Reid asked. "I'm pretty tired; the pain medicine and healing, you know."

"Oh, sure," Morgan said. "Go ahead."

Reid pushed himself up with his crutch and hobbled to the bedroom, Clooney close behind. He shut the door behind the dog and eased himself on to the bed. It was only then that he realized that he had never changed this morning.

'Oh, well,' he thought. 'The only clothes I can wear right now are basically the same thing anyway.'

He lay down and flipped the covers over himself. Clooney hopped up and settled down next to him.

The bed was warm and comfortable but he missed his own bed.

He tried to fall asleep but, despite his lethargy, he could not. Images assaulted his eyes, images of his place of captivity, of Henry looking so very hopeless, of his captor's face as he was doing all those heinous things to him.

He did not cry, something that surprised the young man. It seemed like he had cried more in the last week and a half than he had in the last ten years.

He felt like he had cried as much as he could and he could simply cry no more. There didn't seem to be any tears left. He felt hollow. It was as if all the crying he had done had drained him completely.


	20. Chapter 20

Remember, I won't post anything new until I have at least five reviews for this chapter so if you want more chapters, gimme some love! :)

One More and you get chapter 21!

* * *

Reid never managed to fall asleep. He lay there for the rest of the afternoon and, from the changing color and angle of the sunlight, into the evening as well.

When he heard Morgan's footsteps approaching and the doorknob turning, he pretended to be asleep.

Morgan called to him quietly to wake up and he opened his eyes, pretending that he had been woken by the sound of Morgan's voice.

"Dinner is ready," Morgan said as Reid sat up. "I heated up a couple bowls of stew."

Reid stood slowly with the help of his crutch. He gimped to the door and exited the room when Morgan moved over to give him more room. He could hear Clooney trotting after them.

"I would have asked what you wanted but I didn't want to wake you," Morgan continued.

"Stew is fine," the other man said.

They were in the kitchen now. There were two steaming bowls on the table, accompanied by two tall glasses. The glasses were empty.

"What do you want to drink?" Morgan asked. "I have water, milk, orange juice, and Coke."

"Milk, please," Red said.

"Sure," Morgan replied. He thought that Reid's voice sounded strange. It wasn't happy or unhappy. It almost sounded emotionless. Flat.

He attributed it to sleepiness but in the back of his mind, he wasn't so sure.

Reid sat down while Morgan poured milk in his glass. He filled his own with water.

The pair didn't talk much during the meal. Morgan tried asking his friend questions but he only received short answers. He filled some of the silences with pointless chatter.

When they were done, Morgan washed the plates and glasses. He told Reid to go relax in the living room.

When he was finished, Morgan joined Reid on the couch. He didn't have very much room; Clooney was lying on the couch with his head in the genius's lap once again, getting his ears scratched.

"What do you feel like doing?" Morgan asked.

"I don't care," Reid replied. "Whatever you feel like doing is fine."

Morgan still thought that Reid seemed a little off, but again, he convinced himself it was just tiredness. He didn't want to think it was anything else.

"How about a movie?" Morgan asked.

"That's fine," Reid replied.

"Well," Morgan said, standing up to go to the cabinet where he kept his DVDs, "any particular genre you are in the mood for?"

"No," Reid said, "but I'm not big on movies where people are getting blown up or murdered every five seconds."

"Ok, then, "Morgan said, "that would be a no to _300. _How about…I know, _The Wizard of Oz._ You didn't know what I was talking about the other day when I made that reference."

"Ok," Reid agreed.

"Just let me find it…" Morgan muttered. "Ah, here it is. I liked this movie when I was a kid so my momma got me the DVD when it came out. I still can't believe that you've never seen it. It's on TV all the time. Always has been."

"I didn't really watch TV as a kid," Reid explained. "Well, I watched _Star Trek _but not much else. My mom didn't like TV. She thought that it was a waste of time and ruined your mind."

"But you still haven't seen it, even though you have been on your own for ten years?" Morgan still couldn't believe that there was a person in the English speaking world who hadn't seen the classic movie.

"I almost never watch TV," was the reply Morgan heard while he was putting the DVD in the player. "I have some TV shows I like that I watch sometimes but it's hard to keep up with anything with work. Mostly, I watch older TV shows on DVD or movies."

Morgan retook his seat and pressed play. The movie began and they were soon watching Dorothy's wild adventures through Oz.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

"How'd you like it?" Morgan asked when the movie ended and the TV had been turned off.

"It was…strange," Reid answered. "I didn't understand why anyone would think that a scarecrow, a man made from tin, or a lion would talk or want the things they did. And monkeys have never had wings, so I don't know where they got that idea either."

"Kid," Morgan sighed. "It is only a movie. It was a dream that Dorothy was having. No one thinks those things are real."

"But who would dream up such absurd things?" Reid wanted to know.

"I don't know," Morgan said. "Don't you ever dream crazy stuff that could never happen in real life?"

"No," Reid said honestly. "I've dreamed stuff that was very unlikely to happen but never any kind of creature that could never exist or inanimate objects talking."

Morgan just shook his head not actually all that surprised. Reid never did things the way most of the world did; it was what made him, well, him.

"Well," Morgan sighed, "it's barely past nine; what should we do?"

"I think that I am going to go to bed and read for a while," Reid said, getting up slowly from the couch. Clooney, who had been sleeping, woke when his pillow moved.

"Do you want some help changing into a clean pair of sweats or anything?" Morgan asked, still perturbed by his friend's behavior.

"No," Reid said. "I think I'll just sleep in these and put on something clean tomorrow. They can't be too dirty; I haven't done anything but sit all day."

Morgan was still reluctant to let Reid go off on his own but he couldn't think of anything else to say or do that would keep Reid from leaving. There was just something that rubbed him the wrong way about Reid's behavior.

He heard the door click shut when Reid entered the bedroom. He would crack it open later before he went to sleep. He had decided that he would be sleeping on his couch for the foreseeable future. After last night, he didn't want to chance not waking up to one of his friend's night terrors.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Reid brushed his teeth and got into the bed. Clooney jumped up after him, curling up flush with his side.

He reached towards the pile of books on the bedside table He grabbed the top book. It was a book that his mother had given him on his eighteenth birthday from her personal collection. It was a very old copy of _The Canterbury Tales. _

He read for a while but he just couldn't get into the story. He wasn't reading nearly as fast as he normally did and he couldn't concentrate on what he was reading.

He closed the book and set it back on the pile. He twisted the switch on the lamp and the room was plunged into darkness, except for a small nightlight (Morgan had taken one from Reid's bedroom, without his knowledge, and placed it in his room when they had first arrived). He scooted down under the covers and laid his head on the fluffy pillow.

He still felt drained. Drained of energy; drained of emotion; drained of….everything.

He felt so very tired but he couldn't sleep.

He lay there for what felt like hours, unable to sleep but not wanting to do anything to pass his sleepless minutes.

At around 11:30, according to the digital alarm clock, Reid heard the TV turn off. He heard Morgan's footsteps approaching and closed his eyes so that the older man would think he was asleep.

Morgan opened the door quietly. He stood there for a moment before returning to the living room so that he could go to sleep.

Sleep still evaded the young man in the bedroom. He would have tossed and turned if he hadn't been wearing those bulky casts and had sore ribs.

He eventually fell asleep sometime around two a.m. but the sleep was far from restful.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Morgan was awoken five times by Reid's nightmares. Each time he went in to wake the younger man up, Reid cried briefly before saying he was tired.

When Reid finally got up near 11, Morgan saw the effects the night had had on his friend. His eyes were red and had dark circles underneath them. He was walking slower than he had before, which was saying something as he walked quiet slowly with the crutch.

"Want something to eat?" Morgan asked.

"No, thanks," Reid said. "I'm not really hungry."

"How about some coffee?" Morgan tried. "I was just about to make a pot."

"Sure," Reid said, sitting down on the couch. "If you were going to make some."

"Back in a jiff," the dark skinned man agent said. He got up and disappeared into the other room.

He was back a few minutes later, two mugs in hand. He handed one to his friend and sat down. He took a sip of his own and watched as Reid sample his own.

"Got enough sugar?" Morgan joked.

'Yeah, it's fine," Reid mumbled.

They sat drinking their coffee, the only noise the slurps of their coffee.

"You're appointment at one-thirty, right?" Morgan asked, after there had been silence for quite some time.

"Yeah," Reid replied.

"Where is the office?" he asked.

"It's in Fredericksburg," the other man answered. "It'll take about forty-five minutes to get there."

"So, we should leave in about an hour," Morgan said.

Reid nodded, draining the last mouthful of overly sweet coffee.

"You wanna take a bath before we leave?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah," Reid said slowly. "I probably should."

"I'll go run the water," Morgan said.

He left the room, taking both coffee mugs to the kitchen before heading off to the bathroom. He ran the water in the tub, making sure that it wasn't too cold or hot and returned to get Reid.

"You ready, man?" he asked when he entered the room.

Reid, who was looking pale and shaky, stood slowly with the help of his crutch. He limped towards the bedroom, Morgan following him.

They went through essentially the same thing this time as they had two days previously. The traumatized man again became too anxious to completely undress so Morgan helped him into the tub still in his boxers.

Once more, Reid spent a while mostly submerged. It seemed to let all his cares float away.

Morgan helped him out half an hour later and let him get dressed on his own.

The minutes left until they needed to leave were filled with another cup of coffee and some unimportant small talk.


	21. Chapter 21

A few more reviews? Please? It would make me happy :)

* * *

Morgan tried to get Reid to talk on the ride to Fredericksburg but Reid wasn't really in the mood. Most of the ride was spent in silence other than some soft music floating through the speakers of the radio.

They arrived at the doctor's office a few minutes early. After entering the office and signing in, they waited in the colorless waiting room.

After ten minutes, a nurse called out Spencer's name. Morgan pushed the wheelchair through the door and followed the nurse to an exam room.

Once Morgan had gotten Reid to the exam room, he left, telling Reid that he would be in the waiting room when the doctor was done.

Reid waited an additional twenty minutes before Dr. Miller arrived.

"Hi, Spencer," a kind looking, older man with gray hair said as he entered the exam room.

Steven Miller had been Reid's doctor since he had moved to Fredericksburg, when he began working at the BAU, over seven years ago. He was shocked to see how beat up his patient was. It was one thing to read the report from the hospital but it was another entirely to actually see him.

"Hello, Dr. Miller," he replied.

"I see on your chart that you need some stitches removed," the doctor said, "from two surgical sites and some lacerations on your stomach."

"Yes," the patient responded.

"Well," Steven Miller said, "let's take a look."

The doctor put the chart down on the counter and rubbed some antibacterial hand cleanser on his hands.

He removed the plastic cast from Reid's arm first. He peeled away the bandage and inspected the incision.

"You did a good job of keeping this clean and dry," the doctor commented. "There's no sign of infection."

The doctor turned and opened a drawer. Reid saw him pull out a package. He opened it to reveal a small pair of scissors.

"You'll feel a slight pulling when I remove the stitches but it shouldn't hurt at all," the physician informed him.

He started snipping at the threads and carefully pulled them out. The doctor was right; he felt a slight pulling sensation but no pain whatsoever.

The doctor briefly looked over the lacerations on the man's long hands and the site where the nail had been ripped off, checking for infection (there was none), before moving on.

He replaced the cast and crouched down to check Reid's leg.

When Dr. Miller pushed up the pant leg, Reid's breathing started to speed up. The doctor didn't notice.

He continued to remove the cast and take out the stitches in Reid's leg.

He took a look at the bottoms of Reid's feet and declared that those cuts were almost completely healed and the redness should fade almost completely within a week.

Once the doctor had replaced the cast and pulled the pant leg back down, Spencer calmed down.

He lifted Spencer's shirt. He looked at the cuts and quickly removed the stitches on his patient's stomach.

"How are your other injuries?" the doctor inquired. "Are you having any pain where your ribs are broken?"

"Not really," Reid answered. "The hospital sent me home with a few doses of Ketorolac and I took some the first day but now ibuprofen is enough."

"Ketorolac?" Dr. Miller asked, flipping through the chart to see if he had it right.

"Yes," Reid said, not sure why the doctor looked concerned. "Is something the matter?"

"That drug can be habit-forming and isn't often prescribed for use outside of a hospital," he informed his patient.

"It can?" Reid swallowed. His face went pale.

"Did you inform them about your problems in the past?" the doctor asked, his voice getting a little judgmental.

Reid was still shaken. It took him a moment to answer.

"I told them not to give me any pain killers," he said shakily. "But I was rushed up to surgery and then my boss, he's my medical proxy, was in charge of those decisions. My friend told me that my boss told them that I had a sensitivity to narcotics. The nurse said it was an NSAID. I thought that would be ok."

"It is an NSAID," the doctor said, regretting that he had thought that his patient had intentionally taken the drug, "but it can still be addictive. However, if you only took a couple doses and have already moved to using over the counter pain medication, I don't think you should worry."

Reid calmed down slightly and vowed to dump the rest of those pills down the toilet as soon as he returned to Morgan's house.

"How are your other injuries?" the doctor asked cautiously.

"Which ones?" Reid asked in response, though he thought he knew what the doctor was asking.

"Well, your head, for starters," Dr. Miller said.

"Its fine," Reid replied. "I haven't had any problems other than a few slight headaches."

"Good," he said, jotting that down on the chart.

"Now," the physician continued slowly, "I know that this is probably a very uncomfortable subject for you but I need to ask: Have you had any problems with your bowel movements? Has there been pain or blood or anything out of the ordinary?"

Reid was silent for a very long time. The doctor was about to say something when the younger man finally answered.

"It hurts some but there isn't any blood or anything," he whispered.

Dr. Miller didn't say anything; he simply wrote that down on the chart.

He placed the chart back on the counter and clasped his hands together, wringing them in apprehension.

"Spencer," the doctor said with sympathy and sadness in his voice, "I know that what happened is terrible and I can't imagine how you are feeling but I would like to recommend sending you to a therapist or psychologist. These things tend to take over a person if they don't do something to stop it."

"Thank you, Dr. Miller," Reid said, "but I already have an appointment tomorrow to see a counselor. It is a requirement if I want to continue to work for the FBI."

"Alright," he said. "If you don't have any more questions," he paused and Reid shook his head, "we are done here. You are in excellent physical shape, considering. Make an appointment for about two, two and a half weeks from now and I'll check out your arm and leg to see if you are ready for a walking cast and a splint instead of these bulky things," the doctor smiled, trying to raise his patient's spirits slightly.

Reid smiled politely as the doctor left the room.

A minute later, Morgan came in and wheeled him back to the waiting room, where he made an appointment for three Monday's away.


	22. Chapter 22

Alrighty folks, I want to make something clear. Pretty much every single review I have gotten says that my story is good, which I love, but if you think something doesn't make sense or seems out of characer, or any other flaw, feel free to point it out to me. I do not, however, appreciate flamers, so none of those, please! And, as always, I love reviews and it makes me want to write so much more if I get them :)

* * *

"So," Morgan said while he was merging onto the I-95. "What'd the doctor say?"

"He said I was fine," Reid answered. "The cuts are healed up and the casts should come off at the appointment I made."

"Good," Morgan said.

The rest of the trip to Morgan's house in Lake Ridge was quiet. It seemed strange to Morgan; Reid was always talkative. He wasn't terribly surprised though. His friend had been through a horrible ordeal; he would be more worried if Reid was acting normal.

They pulled into Morgan's driveway. The older agent helped the younger out of the car and into the house.

As soon as Reid and Morgan entered the house, they were assaulted by the smell of something delicious.

"Hello, my boys!" Garcia sang out as she came into the living room from the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Reid asked in astonishment.

"I've missed you and my dark chocolate hunk o' burning love thought it would be a nice surprise for you," the bubbly blonde answered.

The young man turned to look at his friend who was smiling apprehensively.

Morgan hadn't been sure how Reid would react when he invited Garcia over but he knew that they missed each other.

"Thank you, Morgan," Reid said with a small smile.

Morgan beamed, so glad that he had made Reid happy. It was hard to see someone so sad but it's a hundred times harder when it was your best friend and as good as your younger brother.

"Well, Sweet Cheeks," Garcia said. "I think that I need a hug from my favorite genius."

With that, she walked over to the couch where Reid was now sitting and leaned down, enveloping the skinny man in a hug.

Reid was stiff for a second before he relaxed and hugged her back tightly.

She held him that way for a moment before she pulled back.

"I made you guys some chili and cornbread," she said, a finger moving to her face to wipe a tear from her eye.

"It smells great!" Morgan said enthusiastically. Since he was a bachelor, he didn't do much cooking for himself. Usually, the only home cooked meals he got were when he visited his mother. She always made enough food to feed an army and it was the most wonderful food in the world (not that he was biased or anything).

Reid hobbled into the kitchen slowly after his non- crippled friends. He took a seat while Morgan poured drinks and Garcia dished up some of the hearty meal.

When the two finished getting the meal on the table, they sat down and dug into the heavenly smelling food.

"This is really good, Garcia," Reid commented. "I don't think I have ever had homemade chili or homemade cornbread before."

"Oh," she pretended to be embarrassed. "You're just saying that because it's true, aren't ya, Sweetnesss?"

"He's right," Morgan agreed. "This is just about the best chili I've ever had. My grandma's cornbread is a little better, though."

"Well, I don't think even the great Penelope Garcia could beat a grandma's cooking," the blonde said. "My grandma made the best food in the world so I totally get what you mean."

"My grandmother was a terrible cook," Reid commented, wolfing down another few bites of chili. "I hated going to her house to eat because everything she made tasted terrible. The only way my mom and dad got me to eat anything was to bribe me with ice cream or something sweet."

Garcia laughed at her little genius's story. Morgan smirked slightly but he had already known that Reid's grandma wasn't a good cook from the pie anecdote.

They were soon done with their late lunch. Morgan offered to do up the dishes. He had a dishwasher but since he left so suddenly, it had become habit to wash them right after use so he didn't come home to things growing in his sink. This also gave Garcia and Reid some alone time, something that he thought Reid could benefit from.

The brightly dressed blonde and the injured brunette entered Morgan's living room and took seats next to each other on the couch.

"How are you doing, Honey?" Garcia asked in a soft voice.

Her tone reminded Reid of his mother's. It was so gentle and loving and sad that it made him sad to hear and know it was because of him.

"I'm…alright," he said slowly.

"Spencer," she said, hoping not to upset him. "You aren't. And that's ok; that's normal. No one expects you to be after what happened. You can tell us what's going on in your big brain; we love you and we want to help.

"Please tell me how you really are," she finished.

Reid was quiet. He still couldn't admit to himself all of what happened. Intellectually, of course, he knew what had happened. He had every terrifying memory engrained in his mind but somehow, admitting he had been so brutally violated (even if he was only admitting it in his thoughts) was too much to bear. It brought up feelings of fear and anxiety and if he admitted it, that would make it real. Too real. He just wanted to forget that it had ever happened and he couldn't do that if he talked about it; that would just keep it alive.

"I've been better," he admitted. That was true and he had already told his mother he wasn't ok; he just hadn't told her the whole reason why.

"I've been having some nightmares," he explained further. "Morgan's been helpful with those, as much as anyone can, at least. Nightmares are just something that really have to go away on their own, with time.

"I had a panic attack, too," Reid continued. "When we were at my apartment. And there have been a couple other times I thought I would have another one but I didn't. I think I'm probably going to have to move. Just thinking about going there makes me uncomfortable."

"I wouldn't want to stay there either," Garcia agreed sympathetically. "I can sort of imagine what it's like to be hurt in your own home. Not quite but it was still really hard to go up my steps for a long time after I got shot. I still think about it sometimes but it isn't so hard now."

Reid didn't say anything. He felt irritation and a bit of anger burn in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to shout and say that she had no idea what it felt like to be attacked in your own home and for you and your godson, who you were supposed to protect, to be abducted from your own home. He wanted to tell her that she had no idea how horrifying it was to no longer feel safe in the one place you were always supposed to feel safe; you own home.

He knew rationally that she was just trying to help but he still had to bite his tongue (literally) to keep from saying those nasty things.

"Sweetie, what's the matter?" she asked when he had been silent for a few minutes.

"Nothing," he lied.

He didn't know if the blonde believed him but she didn't say any more on the subject.

"Morgan said that you went to the doctor today," Garcia said when Reid was still quiet. "What did they say?"

"I'm doing well," he told her, still trying to get rid of the irrational anger at Garcia. "My cuts are healed and my casts can come off in a few weeks. Then I will get a walking cast for my leg and a splint for my arm."

"How are your ribs?" she asked. "I know that those are supposed to be pretty painful."

"They're a little sore," he told his friend. "But as long as I don't do anything to aggravate them, it's really not that bad. Kinda just like when you've had a bad cough and your chest is sore from the sudden muscle contractions."

"Oh, I know what you mean," she said. "Not fun but at least it doesn't hurt very badly."

He didn't tell her that there was plenty of other pain to make up for the lack thereof in his ribs.

"Want to do something for a while?" she asked. "I haven't got any other plans today so I am yours as long as you want."

"I thought you were mine, Baby Girl," Morgan said as he entered the room.

"Any other day, my chocolate Adonis," she sighed, "but today I am all Boy Genius's."

"I guess I can share," Morgan said as he flopped down into his arm chair.

"What should we do?" Garcia asked her two men.

"Want to watch a movie?" Morgan suggested. "I have a bunch and Pretty Boy here needs some educating on good movies. He didn't even know _The Wizard of Oz, _can you believe it?"

"Oh, how about _Casablanca_?" Garcia squealed.

"Nuh uh, Baby Girl," Morgan said immediately. "No way am I watching that mushy love story."

"I'll show you some love, Hot Stuff," the blonde said in a sultry voice.

Reid's face turned red and the other two occupants laughed at his innocence.

"How about _Schindler's List_?" Morgan suggested when his laughter had died down.

"Well, if I can't have my romance," Garcia sighed dramatically, "I guess that'll have to do."

Morgan looked over to Reid to get his approval. The younger man just shrugged and said that he didn't really care what they watched.

Morgan grabbed the DVD and placed it in the player and soon the three were watching the movie about the German atrocities against the Jewish community in middle Europe.

About halfway through the movie, the youngest member of the BAU began to fall asleep. His eyes drooped and his head flopped to the side. He jerked upright but it happened again and again.

"Honey, why don't you lie down?" Garcia suggested softly.

"No, no, I'm ok," Reid insisted sleepily. "There's no room to lay down here."

"Just rest your head in my lap, Genius Boy," she said, gently pulling him down to a vertical position.

Reid tried to protest weakly but he didn't sway his blonde friend. He rested his head in her lap and closed his eyes. He felt her running her fingers through his hair in a comforting, motherly gesture.

Garcia's ministrations relaxed him and made him feel safe. This was what he had always wanted from his own mother but she was rarely herself enough to show her son how a mother was supposed to act.

As he relaxed further, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

The next chappter is alm ost ready but I would really, really like it if I got a few more reviews! :)

* * *

Reid awoke some time later to quiet voices talking. He heard them saying something about dinner and waking him up.

"I'm up," Reid mumbled, pushing himself up from where his head still rested in Garcia's lap with his good arm.

"Hey, sleepy head," Garcia said affectionately.

"We were just talking about what to have for dinner," Morgan informed his drowsy friend.

"Yeah, I heard you," Reid said, voice still thick with sleep.

"We were thinking maybe ordering a pizza," Garcia said. "How does that sound to you?"

"Pizza sounds fine," Reid replied. It did sound good, he just wasn't very hungry. Hopefully that would change when the hot, cheesy meal arrived.

"What do you guys like?" Morgan asked, riffling through the end table drawer for the menu of his favorite pizza place. It was as close as he could get to good old Chicago pizza without flying out there for some.

"Anything but anchovies," Garcia said.

"What about you, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asked.

"I usually have pepperoni and mushrooms," Reid answered, "but I am ok with anything except onions, anchovies, or olives."

"Pepperoni and mushroom sounds good to me," Morgan said. "Ok with you, Baby Girl?"

She nodded and Morgan called in the order. The kid on the other end of the call said it should be there in forty minutes.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Forty-two minutes later, a teenager came to the door, a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza in hand. Morgan paid him and the trio was soon eating pizza and drinking soda.

Garcia and Morgan tried to engage their younger friend. He talked and joked with them but it seemed like it was all just for show. His smiles never quite seemed to reach his eyes and his laughter sounded forced.

After eating and cleaning up, the trio played a quite a few hands of poker. The brown haired agent joked and talked with his friends during the game although it was less than usual and it sounded fake, just like earlier.

Poker was one of the few areas that Reid felt confident in and, when he was playing, he usually exuded that confidence in his many barbs and taunts about his gambling prowess.

Today, he did not.

As usual, Reid was the champion at the end of the game.

When the game ended, Garcia told her colleagues and friends that she had to leave because she was beat.

She didn't say it in front of her boy genius but she hadn't slept through the night since Emily had told her that Reid and Henry were missing. Every night she woke up after dreaming of them, or sometimes other team members, being taken and tortured and ending up dead. It was her biggest fear that she would lose one of her babies, one of the members of her family (after losing her parents so suddenly when she was just 18) and Reid and Henry's abduction had pushed that fear into over drive.

"Thanks for coming, Garcia," Reid murmured into her shoulder when she squeezed him in a tight hug. Even though it made his ribs ache somewhat, he squeezed her back.

"Anytime, Sweetie," she whispered, her eyes looking especially shiny.

She pulled from his hug reluctantly and straightened up. Before she walked to the door to leave, she kissed the first two fingers of her left hand and pressed them to her youngest family member's forehead.

When Morgan turned around, he saw Reid sitting on the couch with Clooney's head in his lap. The dog looked like he was in heaven having his head thoroughly scratched.

"Watch some TV if you want," Morgan said as he headed towards his desk in his bedroom. He grabbed his laptop and carried it out to the chair where he sat down, opened it, and turned it on. "I'm gonna catch up with my emails and stuff. My sisters get antsy if I don't email them back within a few days."

Reid picked up the remote and pressed the power button. He flipped through the channels until he found the SyFy channel. There was currently an episode of _Star Trek: The Next Generation _showing, one of his favorite shows from his childhood.

"I will never understand what you find entertaining about that," Morgan commented while he waited for his computer to go through all its startup processes.

"And I'll never understand why you find having sex with random girls you met at some bar entertaining," Reid shot back angrily, knowing logically that Morgan probably didn't mean it as an attack against him.

"Hey, now, no need to get mean, Reid," Morgan said, getting a bit riled at Reid's anger. "I wasn't insulting you; I just meant that I don't find that kind of stuff interesting. That's all."

Reid sighed, feeling the anger ebb away.

"Sorry, Morgan," Reid apologized quietly. "I know that you didn't mean it that way. I don't know why I got angry."

"It's fine," Morgan said slowly, feeling his irritation at Reid's words melt away when he saw the sincerity in his friend's face and heard it in his apology.

The laptop had finally gotten to the desktop so the dark-skinned man went about checking his emails and the pale man on the couch went back to watching Captain Picard and the rest of the Enterprise crew's galactic adventure.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Over an hour later, Morgan looked up to see Reid had fallen asleep on the couch. Clooney was laying, head still in his lap. The dog wasn't asleep though. He seemed to be watching the young man, as if he was looking for some kind of sign.

Morgan glanced at the clock on the computer screen and saw that it was nearing ten o'clock.

'I should probably take him to bed,' Morgan thought.

He shooed his German shepherd from his protective position and carefully lifted the skinny man into his arms.

Reid stirred but did not awaken so Morgan carried him into the bedroom and covered him up.

Clooney hopped up onto the bed and resumed his vigil over his new friend.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

That night passed much like the one before. Reid had three nightmares and, after Morgan roused him from each one, he cried briefly before telling Morgan he was tired and wanted to go back to sleep.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Morgan woke Reid at nine o'clock and helped his friend prepared to go to his first therapy session. Again, Reid's same anxieties flared up and he could not completely undress for his bath.

Reid spent most of his time in the tub with everything but his face submerged. It seemed like this was just about the only place where he could just be, without any fears or worries or anxieties.

After Morgan helped him out of the tub, Reid got dressed and entered the kitchen to find Morgan cooking something at the stove.

"Feel better?" Morgan asked when he heard Reid come into the kitchen.

"Yeah," Reid answered, sitting at the table.

"Hope you're in the mood for scrambled eggs and toast," Morgan said as he scooped some of the fluffy yellow eggs onto a blue plate and dropped a few pieces of toast on as well.

"Sure, that's fine," Reid mumbled.

"Want some sugar with a few teaspoons of coffee in it?" Morgan asked with a smile.

"Ha ha," Reid said flatly. "Two teaspoons is good, thanks."

"Here ya go, Pretty Boy," Morgan said as he handed his younger friend a mug that matched his plate.

"Thanks," Reid said, perking up the instant he tasted the sugary drink.

Morgan sat down to his own breakfast and dug in. His mother had always cooked big breakfasts for him and his sisters and now it had become habit to eat a good breakfast each morning.

"Do you mind if we stop by the post office on the way to the appointment?" Reid asked. "I want to mail my mom a letter."

"When did you write a letter?" Morgan asked with a mouth full of toast. One bad habit he had always had was talking with his mouth full. It had driven his mother crazy but he had never been able to break it.

"Last night," Reid said quietly. "I could fall back asleep right away after the last, uh, nightmare. I found paper and a pen in your desk drawer. I hope you don't mind; I didn't look at anything else."

"It's fine," Morgan assured his friend. "And of course we can mail that letter. I'm sure your mom will be glad to hear from you."

"Probably," Reid agreed. "Do you have a stamp and envelope? I didn't really want to look through your drawers too much; I didn't want to see anything private you might have in there."

"I'm sure I have some somewhere," Morgan responded, finishing up his last bite of toast and chasing it with a swallow of coffee. "And I don't care if you go in there for paper or whatever. There isn't much in my life that you and the team don't already know."

"I know what you mean," Reid said, also finished with his meal. "Not that I mind too much. It's not like any of it is very interesting in my case."

"Hey," Morgan said, grabbing the plates and putting them in the sink. "You are plenty interesting."

"Morgan," Reid gave him a look that said 'what are you smoking?' "I am the most boring person on the planet. I go to work, I write my mother, I read, and I watch Sci-Fi stuff. Not a lot of excitement there."

"Work is plenty exciting," Morgan said this time grabbing the empty mugs. "Trust me; I have gotten plenty of fine ladies just by telling them that I work at the FBI."

"It helps that you look like, in Garcia's words "a dark chocolate Adonis," the modern day metaphor for youth and beauty," Reid said, in his typical, rambling fashion.

"Aw, did Pretty Boy just call me pretty?" Morgan teased.

"What?" Reid cried in horror. "No! I mean, you are good looking but I- I didn't mean- I'm not-"

He stopped, blushing to the roots of his brown hair.

"Relax, kid," Morgan laughed. "I know what you meant. But thanks for telling me that I am good looking; everyone needs an ego boost every now and then."

"If your ego got one more boost, I doubt your head would fit through the front door," Reid joked, although Morgan still noticed that the mirth didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ouch," Morgan exclaimed, grabbing at his heart. "You wound me, Pretty Boy."

Reid smirked slightly.

"We need to leave in a couple minutes to get to your counseling appointment," Morgan told his friend. "The person Garcia found for you is in DC so it could take up to an hour to get there."

"OK," Reid said his somewhat happy mood dissipating. It was replaced by a look of trepidation. "Let me go get my shoes, uh, shoe on."

He hobbled out of the room and returned, rather quickly for someone who can't really walk, with an old Converse sneaker on his left foot.

"Just lemme finish these dishes up and we can leave," Morgan said.

Reid offered to help but Morgan refused so, after he was done cleaning and a quick trip to the desk for an envelope and a stamp, the two were in the car and on their way to DC, both filled with anxieties about what this meeting would bring about.


	24. Chapter 24

I would really appreciate a few more reviews before I post the next chapter, folks!

* * *

They arrived at the office in Washington at ten to eleven. The office was in a relatively short building for a metropolitan area such as this; only seven stories high. The therapist's office was on the sixth.

The pair entered the medical building and rode the elevator up to the sixth floor in silence. They exited and found themselves in a nicely decorated hallway.

"It's office 614," Morgan said. "Keep an eye out for it."

"It should be to the left," Reid told his chauffer, pointing to a sign on the wall.

"Alrighty," Morgan said, pushing the wheelchair down the hallway to the left.

A few hundred feet down, they came to office 614. Reid leaned forward and opened the door so Morgan could push him over the threshold.

The office was very nice. The furniture looked relatively new and everything, the paint to the lighting fixtures looked modern.

"Spencer Reid," Morgan said to the receptionist at the desk. "He has an appointment at eleven."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, nails clacking slightly on the keyboard of the computer in front of her, "with Dr. Shuler. I just need insurance information and an ID and we will be all set."

Morgan pulled Reid's wallet from his pocket (since Reid had no pockets to keep his wallet in) and showed her the younger man's driver's license and insurance card. She went to make a copy before handing back the cards back to the tall black man.

"Dr. Shuler will be out in just a moment," the receptionist informed the pair. "Have a seat."

Morgan wheeled his friend over to a chair and parked the chair before taking a seat himself.

Minutes later, a woman who looked to be around forty-five opened the door and called out Spencer's name.

Reid was pushed by his friend through the door and followed the therapist to her office. Once Reid was in the room, Morgan left to go back and wait for him to be finished.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

"So," the therapist said, sitting down in an armchair across from where Spencer's wheelchair, "you must be Spencer."

"Yeah," Spencer said, fighting the urge to say something more along the lines of 'of course I am Spencer; who else would come to the appointment?'

"Well, I am Dr. Maggie Shuler,'" she said with a smile, "but don't worry about calling me doctor or anything; just Maggie is fine."

"Ok," he replied.

"Why don't we start off by having you tell me a bit about yourself," Maggie suggested. "I like to get to know my patients a little to start off with."

"Um, alright," Reid said uncertainly. "My name is Spencer Reid. I'm 28 years old. I graduated from high school when I was twelve and I have three doctorates, two bachelor's degrees, and one more in progress .I have an IQ of 187, although I am not of the belief that intelligence can be accurately quantified, and I read at 20,000 words a minute. I am a behavioral analyst in the FBI. What else do you want to know?"

"What are your degrees in?" the counselor asked.

"My doctorates are in Mathematics, Engineering, and Chemistry and my degrees are in Psychology and Sociology. The one I am working on is in Philosophy."

"Why Philosophy?" Maggie inquired. "It's so different from the others."

"I guess I just wanted to do something that didn't have only one right answer," he replied.

She nodded, like she understood what he meant.

"How about you tell me about your family," the doctor proposed.

"My dad left when I was ten and my mom is a paranoid schizophrenic who lives in a sanitarium in Las Vegas, where I am from," he answered.

"That can't have been easy," Dr. Shuler commented.

"I got through it," Spencer said vaguely.

"Do you have any siblings?" she asked.

"Nope," was the response. "My mom didn't want any more kids after me, apparently."

"What about a significant other?" she continued. "Do you have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend, if that is the case."

"No, I don't have a girlfriend," he said, emphasizing slightly the _girl _part so she would get that he wasn't interested in men.

"Who was the man who brought you in?" Maggie inquired.

"Oh, that's Morgan, uh, Derek Morgan," the brunette informed her. "We work together. I'm staying with him until I can walk again."

"You must be good friends," she said, probing for more information from what seemed to be the biggest (and possibly only) support system for her newest patient.

"Yeah," he replied. "He's my best friend. We've known each other since I started at the BAU when I was 23."

"What about any other friends that are in the area?" the therapist asked.

"The only people that I am really close to are the people I work with," Spencer answered. "We travel together a lot, so we are pretty close. And they all live around Quantico."

"Good," she said.

"Now," Dr. Shuler said, "I was wondering if you could tell me why you are here."

"You don't already know?" the young FBI agent asked in surprise.

"Well," the therapist said slowly, "I do have some idea, because of my specialty but that's all really."

"Oh," he said. He struggled internally with admitting his attack to someone he didn't even know but then he remembered how he didn't know her and didn't need to be afraid of being judged. "Well, I was babysitting my godson while his parents were on vacation in Mexico and we were abducted by the half-brother of a serial killer I shot four years ago. He held us for five days before my team found us."

The therapist looked alarmed briefly but quickly composed herself.

"What happened while you being held?" the doctor asked with caution. She knew that it was probably not something he wished to talk about but she needed to ask in order to know how to help him.

"He told me that he would hurt my godson if I didn't let him hurt me," Reid said, not giving any details. He wasn't ready for that yet.

"That must have been very terrifying," she sympathized.

Reid made a non-committal noise in reply.

"What kind of injuries did you receive?" she pressed, trying to find out as much about Spencer's ordeal as he could give her so far.

"Uh, some cuts and a broken arm, leg, and nose," he told her.

"Is there anything else about your ordeal that you want to tell me?" she asked with hesitation. No one reacted the same to being raped and she couldn't be sure what would happen.

"No," Reid said shortly, changing from uncertain and a little vulnerable at being so open with someone he didn't know to being closed off and upset as soon as the psychologist alluded to the other part of his torture.

"Ok," she said quickly. "We don't have to talk about that yet. How about we talk about how things have been going since your friends found you and your godson."

Reid still kept that closed off, emotionless look on his face but he gestured for her to continue.

"How have you been feeling?" she asked.

"Not bad," he said.

Dr. Shuler did not change the look on her face but Spencer knew she didn't believe him.

"I've been better but I'm not falling apart or anything," he tried to assure the therapist. "I've been abducted before and I didn't handle it well then but I am handling it now."

"How did you handle it before?" Dr. Shuler asked.

He didn't answer right away. He didn't want to tell her but he figured she needed to know so, finally, he said, "The man who took me the first time injected me with Dilaudid, a pain medication, and I got addicted to it. I used for a few months but I got clean and I go to NA meetings as frequently as my job allows."

"Have you felt any cravings for the drug?" the therapist asked. If he wanted the drug, it would be much harder to help him than she originally thought.

"No," the young man before her said, almost in awe. "I hadn't noticed it before but I haven't wanted it at all. I always want it when I am stressed but… it's like, I just…don't anymore."

She smiled at her patient, glad that he wasn't going to have to struggle with his addiction.

"That's really good," she assured him. "If you aren't craving it, maybe your mind is trying to tell you that it knows you are strong enough to get through this without them."

Normally, Reid would have rambled off some facts about addiction but he was still too amazed that he didn't want any Dilaudid to do so.

"Have you been having any nightmares about what happened to you?" Maggie asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah," Reid mumbled. "I have a few every night."

"Do you remember what happens in them?" she continued to press this issue.

"It's just…memories," he answered. "Memories of what happened."

"That is completely to be expected," she agreed. "What about any type of flashback? Have you had anything like that occur? Memories popping up or seeing things happen again when you are awake?"

"Sort of," he answered. "Mostly it's just something will remind me of what happened. Like, my I was in Mor- uh Derek's kitchen alone the other day and I heard a creak behind me. It was just his dog but it made me think back to when the guy came up behind me before he…before he attacked me the first time, in my kitchen. But I didn't start, like, acting like I was living the memory again. I just stood there for a minute and then turned around to see the dog. I kept thinking how stupid it was because the guy who attacked me is dead."

"Why don't you tell me about that," the psychologist prodded gently.

"Henry, my godson, had only been with me for a few hours," Spencer started shakily. "A man in a uniform came to my door and said he was checking for a gas leak. He looked like he really worked for the gas company so I let him in."

He swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable but managed to keep going.

"While he went to check...well, I guess he wasn't really checking... Anyway, I was getting Henry some juice and I was facing the sink when I heard him come up behind me. I turned around and he punched me in the stomach. We fought and I managed to get away with Henry but he got to us in the bedroom before I had a chance to load my gun. I didn't-didn't want any chance of Henry getting ahold of it and hurting himself."

"That's what any responsible adult would do when a child was in their house," she said, trying to ease some of the obvious guilt he was feeling.

"I know," he sighed. "But that doesn't make me feel much better when I think of how I wasn't able to protect my godson."

"I don't imagine it does," she agreed. "But it will help if you keep reminding yourself of that. Eventually, with that, and time, you will fully realize that there was nothing more you could have done."

The brown haired man nodded shortly, contemplating the therapist's words.

"Have you had any other responses besides the nightmares and the flashbacks?" Maggie asked. "Feelings of depression, panic attacks…anything at all?"

"I am almost positive that I had a panic attack," Spencer informed his therapist.

"Tell me about it," she prodded.

"I had just gotten home from the hospital and I was waiting for Morgan to come back from putting our bags in the bedrooms," he said. "It was like all these memories from what happened were flashing before my eyes. I couldn't breathe and it felt like the room was spinning. My heart was racing and I was shaking. I think I got kind of sweaty, too. Morgan got me outside and I calmed down after a few minutes but I was really tired afterwards, like I had just run a marathon."

"That certainly sounds like a panic attack," the doctor agreed. "I don't want you to worry about that right now. Tell me if you have anymore, because you could have developed an anxiety disorder, but it isn't uncommon for people in similar situations to have a few panic attacks.

"Is there anything else you would like to or can tell me about your attack?" she asked. "Anything about why you came to someone of my specialty. The more I know, the more it will help me understand how to help you."

"I just- I can't," the man before her whispered, suddenly looking younger than he was.

"I understand," she said quickly, trying to keep her patient from becoming too distressed. That wouldn't help at all. "How about we talk some more about your friends; does that sound ok?"

Spencer nodded, still looking too young for his years.

"Tell me about your friends," she said. "Who they are, what you like about them, how they make you feel better when you are upset; that sort of thing."

"Well," he started, "there's Morgan. He's really protective, kind of like I imagine an older brother would be if I had one. He helps me with girls and people in general because I am very socially awkward. He teases me a lot and sometimes it bothers me but I know he cares about me like he does his sisters. He always can tell when something is wrong and tries to help however he can. I know that I can always trust him with anything, especially this.

"Why this in particular?" the older woman inquired.

"When Morgan was a teenager," Spencer replied slowly. "He had- let's just say, he could be one of your patients, too."

The doctor nodded in understanding and he continued.

"There's Garcia, um, Penelope Garcia. She's the computer tech on our team. She's always happy and optimistic despite the horrible things we see at work. She always makes whoever is around her happier just by being herself. She can make me smile and feel like nothing is wrong when I am down about something. She kind of reminds me of my mom because she could make me feel better no matter what, too. Well, she could when she was lucid at least.

"Emily is kind of like the tough girl on our team," he decided. "She is really strong and smart. She teases me but it is all in good humor. She isn't afraid to tell me if I am being weird or a jerk, like I was when I was on Dilaudid. But she is also really caring when she thinks something is bothering someone and she is a good listener.

"There's Hotch, my boss. He's more like a mentor than a friend, really. He helps me with whatever I need and gives me advice when I need it, sometimes when I don't even know I need it. He is one of the strongest people I know. His wife…well, ex-wife but they only broke up because of his job, not because they didn't love each other, anyway, she was killed by a serial killer but he still came back and fights the same kind of people every day, despite the horrors he has faced. I know I can count on him and that he cares about me; he even told me he considered me a family member when he visited me in the hospital the night they found me.

"Rossi is kind of like Hotch in that he is more of a mentor than a friend," Spencer said. "I haven't known him for as long as Morgan or Hotch or Garcia or even Emily but I know that he will have my back if I ever need it.

"The last person is JJ," he said, coming to a conclusion of his descriptions. "She's Henry's mother and one of my best friends. She is kind of like a mom and an older sister combined. She is warm and kind and loving and comforting but she also teases me and treats me like a kid sometimes. I'm the youngest member of the team so everyone kind of thinks of me as a kid," he informed the counselor who smiled and laughed slightly.

"The team is really more like a family than a bunch of friends," Spencer commented.

"How about you tell me about your family," Dr. Shuler suggested. "You told me a little but why don't you tell me more about your mom and dad."

"My mom has always been my absolute best friend," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I mean, the team and I are close but she's my mom. I tell her everything I can without endangering my colleagues. There was a case that led to a teammate getting shot because my mother told someone in her hospital about what I told her so I can't tell her _everything _but I always tell her what I can. I know that she isn't always, you know, _normal _but when she was, she is the best mother I could wish for.

"She was a professor of 15th century literature and she always used to read to me whenever I wanted. I used to get bullied a lot and that made me feel better, when she read to me.

"I write to her every day because I can't bring myself to visit her very often," he whispered sadly, "because I see what I could be when I look at her. But I really miss her and I think I might ask her if she would move out here. I…didn't expect to get out of there and I realized that I am more scared of not getting to see her again than I am of seeing how I might end up."

"I think that would help you a lot," the doctor commented. "Having a strong support system is key to recovering for a trauma like yours and even if your mother can't always be a part of that, she is obviously the person you care most about and a vital part of that system. Your team is, as well."

"Tell me about your father," Maggie insisted gently. "I know you said he left but what about before that? Did you have a good relationship? Have you talked to him since then?"

"We were close enough before he left," Spencer said. "He used to try to get me into more mainstream stuff, like baseball and soccer but he also taught me to play chess when I was three and we used to spend hours playing with each other. When he wasn't worrying about me being more like the other kids, we got along great and I loved doing things with him.

"I didn't see him after he left until almost two years ago," the brown haired FBI agent went on. "I had been having these dreams about a dead little boy who, it turned out, was a boy on my T-ball team who was sexually assaulted and left behind his dryer in the basement of his home. In one dream, I saw my father standing over him with the murder weapon and later, under hypnosis, I remembered seeing him burning bloody clothes in our back yard. Needless to say, we didn't have a very happy reunion; accusing your father of being a pedophile and a murderer doesn't help rekindle a relationship."

"Was your father the murderer?" she couldn't help but ask.

"No," Spencer assured the woman. "I guess I just wanted a reason to justify to others why I hated him so much.

"It turned out that my mother had told the boy's father about a strange man who had been paying a little too much attention to me. He beat that man to death and my mother walked in to see it. My dad was burning her clothes and, ultimately, according to him, hiding that murder is what led to him leaving."

"Have you had any other contact with him since you saw him last?" the doctor asked calmly. Internally, she was reeling from the life her young patient led. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to lead a life that…intense was the only word she could think of.

"He's been writing me letters," Spencer Reid informed his therapist. "But I was still too angry to look at them. I have them all in a box. I can't decide if I should open them or not."

"I think you should wait on that one," the trained counselor advised. "Let's work through one obstacle before we look for another one, ok?"

He nodded, secretly glad that she told him not to open the letters. He still wasn't ready to yet.

"Our time is almost up," Dr. Shuler said, glancing at the silver watch on her wrist. "But I would like to ask you to do some things this week, if that's alright with you." Spencer nodded, so she continued.

"I know that this may seem like it is nearly impossible or simply too painful to bear but I want you to admit, to yourself and to someone else, that you have been raped and that you are not ok."

He started to protest and say that he was fine (even though they both knew what a huge lie that was) but Dr. Shuler stopped him.

"I know that you are pretending to be ok but YOU ARE NOT," she said loudly and firmly but with much compassion and sympathy. "No one is ok after being violated like that. It may seem easier and less painful to hide away the feelings and pretend you are ok but it isn't. All that does is bury the pain; it doesn't get rid of it. You need to confront all the pain and fear you are feeling and you can do that by admitting it to someone.

"It can be anyone you want although I think your friend Morgan would be the best person to talk about it with," she advised her now very tense looking patient. This was always one of the hardest parts with her patients. "He knows how it feels to be violated and vulnerable and helpless to stop it, just like you feel.

"The other thing I want you to do is look into moving your mother closer to you," she continued. "You already said you wanted to but you seem unsure. I think that being able to see her and talk to her face to face would be a tremendous help in your recovery. If you would like, I can give you information about several excellent facilities in the DC area and Virginia."

"Thank you," he whispered.

"I know that it seems like it will always feel this way but it does get better," she said sympathetically. "It will get better."

Spencer was skeptical but he nodded anyways.

"Would you like me to help you to the waiting room?" she asked, standing up and opening the door.

"Sure," he croaked, emotion still heavy in his voice. "I would really appreciate it."

The doctor grabbed the handles of the chair and guided it down the hall to where Morgan was waiting for his friend.

"I'll see you the same time next week," Dr. Shuler said after she had gathered the information about the hospitals for Spencer to look into. "Remember those things we talked about you doing."

Spencer nodded and said goodbye to his therapist before he and Morgan were on their way out of the office and back heading back to Lake Ridge.


	25. Chapter 25

"So," Morgan said after they had gotten in the car and pulled out of the parking garage, "how'd you like her?"

"She's nice," Reid said.

"Do you think she'll help?" Morgan asked cautiously.

Morgan saw Reid shrug out of the corner of his eye. The dark skinned man had hoped that he could get Reid to talk a bit more. Apparently, this wasn't the way to do it.

They were quiet for some time, listening to the soft music coming from the radio and the rush of wind as they flew down I-95.

"Do you want to get some take out for lunch or do you want something at home?" Morgan asked when they got closer to Lake Ridge. "We have some stew left, some mac and cheese, a few slices of pizza, and some of that chili and cornbread. What do you have a taste for?"

"Leftovers are fine with me," Reid said.

Ten minutes later Morgan pulled up in his driveway and turned his car off. He helped Reid into the house and they got to choosing their lunch.

"I think I am going to have some of that macaroni," Morgan stated. "What about you? I might have some canned soup and peanut butter if you would rather have that than what leftovers we have."

"The mac and cheese sounds fine," Reid decided.

"I'm gonna just stick the dish in the oven," Morgan said as he turned the knob to preheat the oven. "It'll taste better than in the microwave."

Reid nodded. He sat there for a moment while Morgan waited for the oven to get up to 350 and before deciding to look at the sheet of information on the mental institutions in the area.

"What's that?" Morgan asked when he sat down and saw that Reid was looking at something.

"Information about hospitals for my mom in our area," Reid answered.

"You gonna move her here?" Morgan inquired.

"If she says yes," the younger man responded, eyes flying over a page. "Dr. Shuler thinks that it would be a really good idea. Support systems and all that."

"See anywhere good?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know," Reid answered. "I would need to look into each hospital more thoroughly. The only information is the name, the location, and whether they are short or long-term. To find out what the conditions of the facility are, I need to look up more information online, call them, and visit the hospitals when I get it narrowed down."

"Are there any close by?" Morgan questioned.

"A few," he mumbled, "although most of the ones that are the kind of facilities that my mother would need are farther away than I would want. If she's going to live in Virginia I want it to be close enough to me that I can visit her any time I want."

The timer on the stove dinged brightly, signaling that their lunch was sufficiently heated up. Morgan got up and took the casserole dish out of the oven. It was bubbly and the smell made his mouth water.

After dishing up two plates of the steaming meal and pouring two glasses of water, Morgan joined Reid at the table.

"How're your sisters?" Reid asked after a moment of awkward silence had passed.

"Good," Morgan replied. "Sara got a better job and Des thinks that her boyfriend is going to propose soon."

"That's great," Reid agreed. "Have you met Des' boyfriend?"

"Yeah," the older agent answered, "when I was home last week. He seems a decent enough guy. He has a good job and he lives in the suburbs west of the city which is a lot nicer and nowhere near as dangerous as where Des is living now. I hate that her and Sara and my momma live in such a rotten area but I can't get them to move."

They continued eating, making small talk every so often but the majority of the meal was consumed in silence.

When they were finished and Morgan had washed up the plates and glasses, they retired to the living room.

"Wanna look into the hospitals now?" Morgan asked.

"Sure," Reid answered. "I have the papers right here."

Morgan grabbed his laptop from the coffee table where he had left it the night before and moved to the couch to take a seat next to Reid.

"You tell me the name and I'll see what I can find about it online," Morgan suggested as his laptop went through the startup process.

"Tell me when you're ready," Reid replied.

A minute or so later, the black man told his pale friend he was ready and they began searching for the perfect place.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Two and a half hours later, the pair had it narrowed down to two facilities. All of the state facilities were well over an hour away from his Fredericksburg apartment and who knew how far it would be if he moved.

One choice was in Silver Spring, Maryland, not far outside of DC. It was a group home, so that meant Diana would live in a house with a few other adults, probably who had the same illness which would mean more freedom and a more normal life while still having round-the-clock care.

The other choice was a hospital in a town called Colchester, Virginia. It was a similar facility to Bennington albeit much smaller. It was a twenty-four bed hospital. His mother would have her own sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom, which was much nicer than the small bedroom and bathroom she currently had to herself.

"How about you call and set up appointments for us to see these places?" Morgan suggested. "It might be good to know which place she is going to be at when you ask her. That way you can tell her all about it. Or, if you can't decide, you can tell her about each and let her choose which she thinks sounds better."

"Good idea," the younger man said.

Twenty minutes later, Reid had appointments to see both facilities on Monday; Silver Springs at 10 a.m. and Colchester at 1 p.m.

Just as Reid ended the second call, Morgan's cell phone rang.

"Morgan," he answered. "Oh, hey."

He was silent for a moment before saying, "Alright, let me ask."

"Hey, Reid," he said, moving the phone away from his mouth, "it's JJ. She wants to bring Henry over tomorrow; she says that he really misses you. Do you mind?"

"No," the younger man said, despite that he really didn't feel like seeing anyone. It had been nice to see Garcia but it was so hard to try and show them that he was ok. It was exhausting trying to hide what he really felt. "That'd be nice."

"See you tomorrow, Jayje," Morgan said before he snapped the phone shut.

"What should we do now?" Morgan asked his roommate.

"I think I might go lay down," Reid said, sounding tired. "I didn't really sleep much last night."

Morgan immediately felt guilty. He had thought that Reid had fallen back to sleep after his nightmares. Obviously, he hadn't. He hoped that this nap would be nightmare free.

"Ok," Morgan said. "I'll get you for dinner if you don't wake up before then."

"Thanks," he mumbled and hobbled off to the bedroom where he fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.


	26. Chapter 26

Spencer Reid woke suddenly to a shrill beeping and loud swears.

Reid quickly grabbed his crutch and hobbled into the kitchen. Immediately, he saw the reason for the beeping and curses.

Morgan was pulling a smoking pan from the oven. He tossed it on the stovetop before grabbing towel and running into the hall. Moments later the beeping abruptly stopped and a split second later, there was a crash.

"Are you ok?" Reid called, limping to look into the hallway. It was then that he saw what had made the crash; a smoke detector was lying on the floor.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," he answered.

"What's going on?" Reid asked.

Morgan sighed and grabbed the smoke detector off the floor.

"I may have…completely burned our dinner," Morgan mumbled.

A small smile crept onto Reid's face.

"What is it?" the younger man asked as Morgan walked back into the kitchen and began taking care of the blackened dinner.

"It _was_ pasta and garlic bread," Morgan groaned. "I was trying to melt some cheese on the pasta and toast the bread but I accidentally put the broiler on high instead of low."

Reid started to snicker quietly.

"Oh, like you've never burnt anything," Morgan challenged, not really that embarrassed but trying to joke around to try and bring Reid's mood up.

"Not since I was eleven," Reid answered smugly. Morgan scoffed in disbelief.

"How often do you cook?" he asked.

"Not a whole lot anymore," Reid admitted, "but I used to cook every day, pretty much."

Morgan let it go when he realized what Reid meant. It was easy to forget what a hard life Reid had had. He was normally so upbeat and energetic. You would never know from his happy, caring persona that he had lived through such hardship.

"I don't think that this is salvageable," Morgan said after a moment of silence. "I think we're gonna have to go with take out because pasta was the only thing I had to cook for dinner. I'm going to have to go grocery shopping soon."

Morgan rooted through a drawer and pulled out a pile of takeout menus.

"Here," Morgan said, handing the menus to his friend seated at the table, "pick something out."

"I don't care," Reid mumbled, pushing the menus back towards the older man.

"Neither do I," Morgan insisted, shoving the menus back. "Just pick something."

Reid looked through the menus briefly before choosing Indian. The two choose what they wanted and called in their order.

"Be back in a bit," Morgan said as he walked out the door to get the food.

Reid decided to pass the time by reading so he gimped to the bedroom to grab a book.

He returned to the living room and settled himself onto the couch. He cracked open _David Copperfield _and began to speed through the pages at what most people would see as an inhuman speed.

Ten, perhaps fifteen minutes later, Reid heard a creak. He knew that it was just the house settling (as Clooney was lying on the floor beside the couch) but it didn't stop the memories from surfacing.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Something was very wrong with the new man that his Derek called Reid or sometimes Spencer, when he was upset. Spencer was breathing much too fast and he smelled funny. Scared. His skin was sweaty and he was trembling.

The dog stood up quickly and nudged the man's arm but it didn't help. In fact, all it seemed to do was make it worse.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Spencer felt his chest tighten and his heart pound. He couldn't breathe. That in itself brought back more memories; memories of the man, Harold Michaels, compressing his chest, breaking his ribs.

His vision began to twist and turn, like the entire world was on a tilt-a-whirl.

The terrified man felt like he was choking. His sight began to fade to black at the edges and all he could see was his abductor's face while he was strangling the slighter man.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Derek unlocked the front door. It wasn't the easiest task; his hands were full of bags of delicious smelling curries and other Indian foods.

Before he could even get through the door, the black man was ambushed by his German shepherd. The dog whined intensely and started towards the couch, before turning back to his master and repeating the cycle.

Morgan put the food down on the table near the door and walked around to the front of his couch.

What he saw sent a bolt of fear from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Reid. Skinny, geeky, genius Reid was nearly passed out on the couch. His face was pale and sweaty looking, with a red flush across his highly defined cheekbones. His eyes were only half open and his breath was coming in short, shallow gasps.

"Reid!" Morgan cried in alarm, dropping to his knees near the top half of the younger man's body. "Reid. Come on, man, talk to me."

When the brown haired man heard Morgan's voice, it sounded like it was coming from the end of a tunnel. Nothing seemed quite real.

"Oh, man," Morgan said shakily as he ran a hand over his bald head. "Reid, say something, wake up, tell me about the scientific mistakes in _Start Wars_, anything!"

Reid blinked sluggishly but still didn't say anything. It still didn't seem quite real.

"Oh, God!" Morgan said, very afraid that something was seriously wrong with his best friend. "Spencer Reid, you wake up and say something right now or I swear to God that I will beat your skinny ass from here to Timbuktu."

"Can't kick my ass that far," Reid mumbled, trying to push himself into a sitting position and failing. "It's over 4600 miles away."

"Thank God," the relieved man said, unexpectedly grabbing his friend into a brief, but tight, hug. "I thought…" He didn't finish his thought.

"Are you ok?" he said instead. "What happened?"

"I, uh, I think I had another panic attack," Reid mumbled, successfully sitting up this time.

"Do you know what set it off?" Morgan asked.

"There was a creak," he murmured, sounding slightly confused.

"A creak?" the other man was confused now.

"The floor or something, it creaked," Reid mumbled, feeling a like a child for getting so worked up over a noise. "No one was here and- and- I don't know! I just got…I started thinking about when he was in my apartment and then my chest was tight and that made me think of when he broke my ribs and then I couldn't breathe and that made me think of… what happened right before you found us."

Morgan was quiet. He didn't know quite what to say. He didn't think that Reid would have another panic attack about the attack in his home while he was at Derek's.

"Reid," he finally said, "Michaels is dead. He can't hurt you anymore."

"I know," Reid responded, sounding depressed and angry with himself.

"Did you tell the therapist about the other one?" Morgan asked.

"Yes," Reid said.

"Good," Morgan said, standing from where he was seated on the couch. "She'll be able to help; give you some technique or medication or something.

"Now, how about we go eat our dinner before it gets any colder?"

He helped Reid stand up and they headed to the kitchen after Morgan grabbed the bags of food.

"Tandoori chicken for you," the dark skinned man said, handing a container and fork to his pale counterpart, "and Lamb Shashlik for me.

"We also have some Garlic Naan and some Pakora."

He went to the cabinet and got some glasses out before fixing two ice waters and sitting down to eat.

Reid ate the Indian food without enthusiasm. Usually, Indian was a cuisine he greatly enjoyed but he just didn't have much of an appetite. The only reason he was eating at all was to keep Morgan happy.

They chatted over their dinner. Morgan again noticed that Reid's eyes didn't reflect how he was acting.

"Why don't we go watch something on TV or a DVD if there isn't anything good on," Morgan suggested.

"I'm kinda tired, actually," the other man replied. "Panic attacks are really exhausting. I think I might go rest for a while. Maybe read."

"Oh, of course," Morgan said. He hoped that he would be able to help Reid out of this funk he had fallen into before it turned into something worse.


	27. Chapter 27

Reid emerged from the bedroom about an hour later. When he did, he looked slightly less tired but he seemed a bit more despondent than he had been.

They watched _Dances with Wolves_. Morgan expected Reid to comment on the history errors that the movie had but not a peep came from the genius's mouth. That either meant that either there weren't any or that Reid was…no, there was no either.

Reid was depressed. It didn't take a profiler to see it. And it wasn't surprising. They knew that he would have PTSD when they found him and he knew that about half of people with PTSD developed depression. It was one thing to know the possibility and symptoms but it was another entirely to see it happening before his eyes.

When the TV show that neither man was really watching went to commercial, Morgan pressed the mute button on the remote. Reid looked over at him curiously.

"Reid," Morgan said, "if you want to talk to me, you can."

"I know," Reid mumbled in reply, looking down at his hands that were fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Morgan sighed when his friend didn't say any more. He was trying to subtly get Reid to talk to him about the horrible trauma he had suffered. The empathetic man was determined to not let Reid do what he had to deal (or not deal, really) with the pain and the multitude of other tumultuous feelings.

"Reid," Morgan tried again, "I really-" The other man cut him off.

"I know that I need to talk about it," the brown haired genius said, voice barely above a whisper. "And I will. But…I'm just not ready yet, ok? When I am, I'll talk but please don't push me to."

"Ok, man," Morgan agreed softly.

The show came back on and Morgan unmuted the television.

They watched the show in silence for about twenty more minutes. When it went to another commercial, this time Reid grabbed the remote and muted the annoying lawyer's commercial.

"What did you think had happened when you came home?" he asked quietly.

"Huh?" Morgan grunted.

"When I…came to," Reid elaborated, "you said that you thought something but you never said what."

"Oh," Morgan said, looking away from his friend. "It's, uh, really not that important. What's important is that you are ok."

"Why won't you tell me?" he asked, drawing his eyebrows together in thought. Suddenly, the expression changed from confusion to one of understanding.

"You thought I OD'ed," it wasn't a question.

When the African-American man didn't respond, Reid had his answer.

"I'm sorry," Morgan said sincerely. "You looked exactly like this friend I had in high school who died from an OD. You were all pale and sweaty and you weren't answering me and I got…scared. I thought you were dying."

"I'm not mad," the younger man said. "If I was you and I saw someone with a history of drug abuse looking like that, I would probably think the same thing."

They were quiet for a minute before Morgan hesitantly asked, "Have you thought about it? Using again, I mean."

"No," Spencer Reid answered honestly. "I talked to Dr. Shuler about that, actually. I haven't felt any cravings or urges to use and she thinks that perhaps it is my body's way of telling me that I don't need them to deal with everything."

"That's terrific news," Morgan said encouragingly.

"I don't know if I believe it," the young doctor commented. "Addiction is not only psychological; it's physiological as well. It doesn't seem to make sense that the physiological need isn't there any longer."

"Well, I'm not going to pretend to know that much about addiction," the muscular man began, "but if the psychologist said it, I am sure it has truth to it. And you know what they say; mind over matter.

"Don't over think it," Morgan said, "just be proud that you've worked hard and overcome it."

"Maybe you're right," Reid conceded. "About the doctor knowing what she was talking about, I mean. But I'm not proud that I overcame that addiction. All I think I'll ever feel is ashamed that I let myself fall prey to the drugs Tobias introduced into my body.

"And you don't need to tell me that it wasn't my fault that he did what he did," Reid said when his roommate opened his mouth to say something. "I know that part isn't but I shouldn't have let myself take the drugs in the first place. It was dangerous and I came close to really hurting the people who mean the most to me."

Morgan had no response and Reid seemed to be done talking so the pair sat, not really watching the television for a while longer before Reid toppled over, deeply asleep, onto Clooney.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Reid had two nightmares that night. Morgan and Clooney managed to wake the distraught man and calmed him down enough that he went back to sleep.

At least Morgan thought he was asleep. In truth, Reid didn't sleep for more than four hours that night.

After the first nightmare, Reid had tried everything to keep himself awake. He wrote his mother a long letter, read three of the seven books he had left to read, and looked out the window, staring at the few stars that could be seen through the nearby city's lights.

He fell asleep some time later and was woken up by Morgan from another horrific dream where he was violated over and over and over, with no end in sight.

After that nightmare, Reid sat up and tried to keep himself awake by solving mathematical equations, calculating the energy needed or produced in chemical reactions, and reciting poems and stories his mother had read to him as a child.

He fell into a light sleep not long before Morgan came to wake him up for breakfast. Reid picked at his pancakes and sausage before taking a bath (clad in his black and green striped boxers).

Before Reid's hair even had the chance to dry completely, JJ arrived with little Henry.

"UNCA 'PESSER!" Henry shrieked happily when he saw his godfather.

"Hi Henr- oof!" Spencer groaned in pain as Henry shot into him like a bullet.

"Henry!" JJ chastised her excited toddler, "calm down; you hurt Uncle Spencer." Henry's face crumpled and he burst into tears.

"Oh, Henry, no, you didn't hurt me," the upset child's godfather assured him. "I was just surprised."

"Unca 'pesser no hurt?" Henry sniffled, tears slowing.

"No, no, Henry," Reid said. "I am fine."

Henry crawled up onto the couch beside his godfather and very gently wrapped his small arms around Spencer's skinny torso.

JJ joined her boys on the couch. She wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulder and squeezed.

Henry cuddled up to his godfather and asked for a story.

"I'm going to go to the grocery store so Pretty Boy and I don't starve," Morgan said, pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys. "I have a few other errands to run, too, but I will be back at lunch, call if you need me."

"Can you mail a letter to my mother for me?" Reid asked.

"Sure," Morgan said. "Where is it?"

He went to the bedroom and retrieved the letter before he was off.

"'tory, p'ease, Unca 'pesser," Henry requested politely.

Reid chuckled lightly before reciting Whinnie the Pooh for his godson.

After the story, Henry got bored with sitting on the couch and so JJ turned on a cartoon channel for her young son. While he was entranced in the world of Max and Ruby, JJ and Reid had a chance to talk, so they went to the kitchen to have more privacy.

"How are you doing?" she asked softly once they had sat down.

"I'm alright, JJ," Reid said, sounding truthful even though it wasn't the slightest bit close to reality. "Don't worry about me."

"Spence, don't lie to me," JJ scolded gently in a sad tone. "I can't believe that you are ok, not after ev-everything that happened to you. I wish I could make it better but-"

"Look, I'm ok, alright, JJ? Nothing you can do or say is going to change anything," Reid snapped harshly at his friend.

He regretted not keeping a better hold of his tongue immediately.

JJ's eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip trembled slightly.

"JJ," he sighed, disgusted with himself that he had made her cry, "I'm sorry; I didn't mean-"

She didn't let him finish. She stood and nearly ran to the bathroom, leaving Reid to feel guilty and to watch Henry.

"What wrong wit' Momma?" Henry asked when his godfather entered the room and sat heavily on the couch.

The young genius rubbed his face tiredly and explained.

"I said something to Momma that wasn't very nice and she is upset," he mumbled.

"Say sowwy!" Henry insisted sternly. "Momma says say sowwy when we mean."

"I will when Momma comes out of the bathroom," Reid assured the tiny boy. That seemed good enough for the boy because he turned back to the television.

After ten minutes with no sign of JJ, Reid gimped to the bathroom. Just as he got to the door it opened to reveal a red-eyed, blotchy-faced blonde.

"Oh," she mumbled, startled to see someone on the other side of the door.

"JJ," Reid said quickly and sincerely, regret clear on his face, "I am so sorry. I should never have snapped at you like that. I didn't even mean to; I've been kind of irritable lately and I haven't been keeping very good control over what I say; ask Morgan. It wasn't anything about you. It's really, uh, sweet that you want to help me and all."

"Oh, Spence," she sniffled, "of course I want to help you. Besides the fact that you are the closest thing to a younger brother I have, the only reason you got hurt was because that despicable piece of…" she glanced towards the living room. "Well, anyway, the only reason you got hurt was because you were protecting Henry. If he hadn't been there, you're gun would have been loaded and you could have blown his brains out before he could take you."

"Jayje, it isn't your fault," Spencer tried to assure her. "It was something terrible but it wasn't anybody's fault, what happened to me and Henry."

'Except you,' the nasty voice of doubt whispered to him. 'You should have been quicker, fought harder, anything to save Henry. It's your fault that you two were kidnapped.'

Spencer tried to ignore the voice but it didn't work very well. He still felt incredible guilt over the whole ordeal.

JJ let out a half sob and hugged the skinny man tight but not tight enough to jostle his broken ribs.

Come on, JJ," he said, awkwardly encircling her in his long arms and patting her head. "There's no need to cry. We're fine now."

She hugged him for a while longer, how long Spencer wasn't sure because, to him, it felt like an eternity. The only tears he had ever had to deal with (besides his own) were his mother's and that wasn't anything like this situation. JJ wasn't a mentally ill woman intent on the delusion that someone, often the government, was watching her and trying to poison her. Those tears went away when she came out of the delusion (either with time or when he managed to sneak her medication into her food) or when she fell asleep. He had no clue how to calm a perfectly normal woman who was crying onto his shirt.

"Please stop crying, JJ," Reid groaned desperately.

JJ laughed through her tears but did manage to stem them.

"Let's go see to Henry, huh?" he suggested.

She agreed and the pair went off to see what the toddler had gotten into in their absence.


	28. Chapter 28

The young boy was still sitting in front TV, now watching some show about a talking yellow sponge.

"You say sowwy?" Henry asked his godfather.

"Yes, I did," Spencer answered the child.

"Good," Henry said with a nod of his tiny little head. It was all that JJ and Spencer could do not to laugh out loud at the serious, adult look on the toddlers face.

They sat down on the couch behind the boy and watched a bit of the sponge's daily activities at some fast food restaurant.

When the next episode of the same show came on, Henry got up and crawled onto the couch. He settled himself into his godfather's lap and rested his head on the man's chest.

"S'eepy time," Henry mumbled as his blue eyes were obscured by his eyelids slipping closed.

Spencer saw JJ staring at them and felt like he should explain.

"When we were- in the shed," he whispered, a slight tremor in his voice, "this was how he slept most of the time and, well, we spent almost all of our time like this, really. We just had this…little cot, so there wasn't much room plus, we both…felt better, I think, when we were sitting together. "

JJ's eyes welled up again but thankfully for the brown haired man, no tears fell.

The blonde was silent for a moment, looking at her sleeping son in his godfather's lap.

"Did Henry-" she broke off, biting her lip before continuing. "Did Henry see anything that ha-happened to you? He's had a few nightmares but all he ever says when we wake him up is 'Unca 'pesser, Unca 'pesser!' We've asked him what they were about but he just says that they're about you. I was hoping you could shed some light on what he might be dreaming about."

"I don't think that he did," Spencer said slowly, "but I can't be sure. Mich- he, he made Henry stand in a corner facing the wall with his ears covered and I told him not to look but I can't be sure that he didn't. I could- couldn't watch him while I was…otherwise occupied."

"Was he there when," she started hesitantly. "Was he there when Michaels was…"

She trailed off, not wanting to voice the awful crime that had befallen her younger "brother" and friend.

"No," he said, looking into her eyes so she could see that he was telling the complete truth. "Before…that happened, the guy came and took him away. I don't know where exactly he put Henry, though. You would have to ask him."

JJ breathed a sigh of relief but the man wasn't quite finished.

"He saw me…naked," Spencer mumbled. "Right after the last time that he…the day you guys found us. That's when I got my ankle broken and I couldn't get to my clothes. I always made sure to cover up my wounds as much as I could," he said quickly, as if he wanted to assure his friend that he had done everything in his power to protect her baby's innocence. "Henry had to bring them to me and I am sure he got a pretty good look at…everything that had happened to me. I was really bloody when Morgan and Hotch got to me.

"He could be dreaming about that," the young genius posited, "or he could be dreaming about when he saw me get st-strangled."

JJ gasped softly, her hands flying to her mouth while more tears filled her eyes.

"He- he saw that?" she whispered, wishing desperately that she had misheard.

He nodded sadly, inwardly feeling the guilt tug at his heart.

"I guess that Mi- he heard the team or something and ran out to us," Reid said, looking down at his angelic godson, " because he ran in, breathing erratically before he jumped on me and put his ha-hands around my throat, screaming that I wasn't going to get away with killing his brother. I heard Henry crying and I tried to get him off of me, I swear, but he was stronger than me and I had lost a lot of blood throughout the time I was there plus I had a broken arm and leg that I could barely move.

"Then Morgan came in," he continued, a haunted look taking over his eyes, "just before I blacked out and I was so happy because that meant that Henry was safe, even thought I was going- going to d-die."

JJ let out a quiet sob, unable to keep the tears of sadness, horror, and love for the incredibly strong man in front of her at bay any longer.

He kept on, barely even hearing JJ's tears. Now that the story (or, at least, part of it) was coming out, it was like he couldn't stop.

"Morgan pulled him off of me and I think he hit him," Spencer Reid tried to remember the hazy incident, "but I can't be too sure; everything was still a little…unreal. Then I heard a gunshot and Mich- he fell and I saw Hotch with his gun out but he holstered it and he went over to Henry and picked him up. Then Prentiss said there were ambulances coming and, well, you know basically what happened after that."

JJ was still sobbing into her hands so as to muffle the sound in an effort not to disturb her baby's slumber.

"It might be a good idea to take him to a child psychologist," Reid suggested quietly, patting JJ's shaking shoulder. "They might be able to find out what he is dreaming about and figure out how to help get rid of them."

JJ was still too emotional to speak so the only answer she gave was a nod of the head.

After JJ had calmed down, the pair sat quietly, soaking up each other's company and comfort.

Ten minutes into their silent vigil, Reid felt something fall onto his shoulder. He looked to his shoulder and saw that JJ had fallen asleep. Up close, he could see carefully concealed bags under her eyes. She obviously hadn't been getting much sleep, probably due to Henry's nightmares. Coupled with her crying jag only minutes earlier, it was no surprise that she had exhausted herself.

That is how Morgan found the pair an hour later when he got back from the grocery store. JJ's head still rested on the youngest team member's shoulder, who was lightly and absentmindedly stroking his sleeping godson's head.

"Hey," Morgan said quietly, "everything ok?"

"Yeah," Reid replied, just as quietly, "JJ and Henry were just a little tired."

"Yeah, I can see," the coffee skinned man chuckled.

"Oh, hi, Morgan," JJ mumbled at that moment, lifting her head from Reid's shoulder and yawning. "Sorry for falling asleep on you, Spence. Guess I was more tired than I thought."

"Don't worry about it," he responded, feeling slightly awkward now that JJ was awake. It was comforting to see the motherly blonde but he hated having to pretend that he was ok when he was so far from it.

"I brought home some lunch since it's almost noon," Morgan said, walking towards the kitchen to take the bags of groceries into the kitchen.

When he came back through the living room to go get more bags from the car, he continued, "I hope you feel like fried chicken. We've had just about every kind of take out recently. There's macaroni and cheese for Henry; I didn't know if he could eat the chicken but there's plenty for all of us if he can."

While Morgan went to get the rest of his groceries, JJ went to set the table and get them drinks.

Once the lunch was on the table and the home's owner had brought in the groceries, placing the perishables in the refrigerator, JJ got her sleeping son from his place still in his godfather's lap. Reid gimped after them and the group was soon eating a tasty lunch of fried chicken, potato wedges, macaroni (for Henry), and corn on the cob.

Not long after the meal was finished and JJ had helped do up the dishes, she and Henry took their leave. The little boy was acting very tired and was beginning to get cranky, despite the nap he had had before lunch. He gave his beloved "Unca 'pesser" and hug and a sloppy baby kiss that lifted the man's mood slightly before settling into his mother's hold on him and closing his small blue eyes.

"Take care of yourself, Spence," JJ whispered as she hugged him gently before she took the toddler to the car and drove away.


	29. Chapter 29

Reid and Morgan spent the rest of the afternoon doing nothing important. Reid stared at the TV, watching some documentary on something science-y that Morgan didn't really care about so he spent his time emailing Sarah and Des and looking for some new music online.

When dinner time came around, Morgan took another stab at the pasta dish he had tried last night. While Reid sat at the table and chopped up some vegetables for a salad, the other man watched his baking pasta and garlic bread like a hawk.

That night, the pair watched _Batman Begins_. Reid was generally not a big fan of action movies but he was a fan of comic books, one of his obsessions from childhood that had lasted, so he didn't mind the scenes of violence.

Not long after the movie ended, Reid headed to bed, even though it was barely past eight thirty. Morgan tried to think of something to get the skinny genius to stay but nothing came to mind.

Morgan spent the next two hours staring at the TV, not really watching some show about home remodeling. All he could focus on was this unusual behavior. Reid was a night owl, often not going to bed until much later than Morgan when they shared hotel rooms. The tall, skinny man going to bed so early was worrisome to the African-American man because it was yet another sign of the depression Morgan was sure Reid had and this further cemented it in his mind. He hoped that the psychologist could help his friend through this.

Morgan turned off the television and fell asleep, plagued with worry for his friend's deteriorating state.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Unbeknownst to Morgan, Reid wasn't sleeping. He was lying in the bed, his encased arm resting beside him on one side and the other running lightly over Clooney's soft fur on the opposite side.

Reid felt empty. Not sad or angry or any of the other tumultuous emotions that had come and gone and come back again over the past week and a half since his team had found him and Henry. Empty. Like there was nothing left of who he had been just two weeks ago.

A little over two weeks ago, he was a generally happy young man with family who loved him, a job that he looked forward to nearly every day, guest lectures and classes at the academy and some colleges, and pastimes that he enjoyed, like reading and watching old shows on DVD and contributing to writing textbooks for some extra money.

Now, all he had in his life was this strange, half-existence that consisted of him sitting around all day, mooching off of his best friend and reliving the most horrifying, degrading, sickening experience anyone could ever go through.

He had his mother, but she didn't know the whole truth. She just knew he had been injured, not that he had been so terribly violated. What would it do to her if…no, when she found out?

He didn't have his friends, at least in the same way as before. Before, they had teased him and treated him like a little brother that they pretended annoyed them. Now, they treated him like a fragile little doll that would shatter into a million pieces if they so much as breathed wrong, all the while looking at him pityingly.

He didn't have his job and it was unsure when he would get it back. It could be in three months or it could be never. It all depended on what his psychologist said because he could fool the bureau psychologist for his evaluation. If Dr. Shuler said he wasn't ready… He might not ever get to go back.

He couldn't lecture or teach any classes while he couldn't walk. Even if he could, he didn't think he would want to. It would just be more people to pretend for.

He could still read, of course. He did, although not as much, but it just didn't hold the same enjoyment over him as it used to. Before, it took him to a completely different world, one where anything could happen. Now, he understood what his classmates meant when they complained about having to read for classes. It seemed like a chore now; he just didn't enjoy it anymore.

He watched DVDs and TV still, but it had never really been his favorite thing to do. Besides, he knew Morgan didn't like the same kinds of movies and TV shows as he did and it was hardly fair to watch shows that Morgan didn't like when he was being so generous and helpful.

He supposed that he could still work on the textbooks but he didn't have any right now. Even so, he didn't feel like it, even though he usually found great satisfaction in helping to complete a textbook that would be used to teach others about profiling or any of the other subjects he had helped write textbooks for.

Everything made him angry or irritated him to no end, even though he had no reason to be upset. He had hurt two people he cared about (Morgan with the comment about his bedroom habits and JJ about her feeling guilty) already. Who else would he hurt? Garcia? Henry? His mother?

Life just seemed so pointless and empty right now and Reid couldn't see that changing any time soon.

These sad thoughts kept replaying and remixing in his mind for hours until the depressed man finally fell asleep at around four in the morning.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Morgan was woken only once from a nightmare of Reid's, right about dawn.

Instead of being understandably upset when he woke, however, Reid just sat there, staring into space before saying he wanted to go back to sleep. No tears were shed. He didn't try to comfort himself by wrapping his unbroken arm around himself, like before.

This worried Morgan more than anything else that had happened to lead him to suspect his skinny brown haired friend was depressed. At least sobbing was a reaction. This…this…nothing was a hundred times worse.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Morgan woke again a couple hours after Reid's nightmare. He was still extremely worried about his friend; he had a feeling of impending doom that he just couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried.

It was only seven and Morgan doubted Reid would be up soon so he tried to occupy his time. He watched the news, finding it just as depressing as usual. He read a chapter and a half in his favorite Vonnegut book. He filled both of Clooney's dishes for the dog when he came out of the bedroom. He dusted all of his furniture and swept his kitchen.

By the time this was all done, it was barely past eight and Morgan hadn't heard a peep from Reid or his dog. He sat heavily on his couch, to awake and agitated to lie back down for a little while but unable to come up with anything else to do.

After spending five minutes trying to come up with something to do, the mocha skinned man came up with it. It was something to do and, hopefully, it would make him feel better or at least give him more of an idea what on earth he could do to help his best friend.

He grabbed his phone off of the coffee table and flipped it open. He scrolled through his contacts while walking to the kitchen until the person he wanted to call was highlighted.

Ringing came from the other end of the other end. After three rings, the other line was picked up.

"Hello?" a slightly sleepy female voice answered.

"Hey Momma," Derek responded.

"Oh, Derek, baby," Fran Morgan perked up at her only son's voice. "How are you? How's your friend, Spencer? Is he doing better?"

"He isn't doing so great, Momma," he said softly. "I'm really worried about him."

""What's the matter?" the mother asked in concern for the young man she had only met once but still cared for, simply because her son did.

"He…" Derek paused, unsure if he could explain to his mother what had him so worried. The Chicago born man didn't see a way how.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone about this, Momma," Derek stipulated. His mother agreed without argument or hesitation.

"The thing that happened that I didn't tell you before," Morgan sighed, "was that Reid wasn't just hurt; that bastard raped him."

There was a gasp on the other side of the conversation.

"Oh, my Lord," she breathed. "No wonder he isn't alright."

"He's not just not alright," Derek explained. "He's acting way different than he usually does. He's irritable and more withdrawn than he usually is."

"Honey," Fran sighed, "I think it's probably to be expected for him to be out of sorts for a long while after…something like that happening. You should understand that, baby."

Her last sentence was said shakily, remembering the horrors her son had experienced without her knowledge until years later.

"I _do _understand that, Momma," her son insisted. "I know that he is going to be angry and confused and upset and hurting. That's not all it is though. I can see him starting to change from my best friend to someone else, someone I don't know and I don't know how to help him."

"Derek," Fran said slowly, "that happened with you, too. I thought it was because you were becoming a man without your father to help you but now that I know about…what Carl did to you, baby, I can see that _that _was the cause of your personality changes."

"What do you mean?" Derek asked. He had been sure that he had been careful to hide all of his pain and shame and tears from his mother and his sisters. The only time the abused teenager had let his guard down, he thought, was in the privacy of his room, late at night after everyone was in bed.

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighed sadly, "you tried so hard to hide it but I could see. You were so sad all of the time. You hid behind sports victories and good grades but I could see how sad you were underneath the perfect athlete and perfect student façade. You didn't go out with friends; you didn't date. I heard you crying in the middle of the night. I wanted to talk to you about it but you never wanted to talk. Anytime I brought your dad up, you got angry or ran off to do something else that suddenly came up. I had no…no idea what was really the matter."

"It hurt so much to talk about Dad," Morgan whispered sadly. "It still does. That's part of why I got so upset but it was mostly because whenever you or Des or Sarah brought him up, I remembered the last time…" The vulnerable and greatly saddened man's voice cracked slightly and he had to take a moment to collect himself.

"I remembered the last time Dad spoke to me," he said once he was more in control. "I remembered how he said he was so proud of me and I was so afraid that he would be ashamed of me and hate me because of what I was letting Carl do."

"Oh, Derek," Fran Morgan cried, tears coming forward and trialing down her pale cheeks. "Oh, my baby, he could never have been ashamed of you for _anything. Especially_ not this. He loved you so much, honey. More than I think you can realize without having a child of your own. If he had found out about that, he never would have forgiven himself for letting that happen to you. He would have killed Carl Buford for doing that to you and spent the rest of his life making up for letting something so terrible happen to you."

Derek was silently trying to blink back the stinging tears that were trying to escape his dark brown eyes. He had told himself millions of times that his father wouldn't have been ashamed of him but, if he was truthful with himself, he had never believed it. He knew now that he believed that when he was younger because the young, abused boy thought that he deserved everything Carl did to him.

He was such a horrible child after his father was ripped away in front of his eyes, Derek Morgan knew. He was mean to his sisters, often making them cry. He would tease Desi incessantly and not in a brotherly way. The middle child came up with every nasty thing he could to torment his younger sister and made many a terrible comment on his older sister, Sarah's, weight, acne, looks, clothes… Basically, he said anything and everything that torpedoed a young teenaged girl's self-esteem.

He knew, then and now, that he broke his mother's heart every time that he was in the company of those bangers. She used to look at him with this sad, almost mournful look when he had been out with his "friends" or after one of his sisters had run to her in tears because of something he had said to them.

That had changed when he met Carl.

At first, Carl had really been a great mentor to the teenaged boy; the older man took him under his wing and never got mad when the sad, angry child was a brat to him. He taught Derek how to play football and the young African-American boy found himself happier. He stopped hanging out with those bangers. He quit being so awful to his sisters and they went back to getting along (with the occasional fight over the TV or a rude comment), like when they were younger. He made his mother smile when he won football trophies and started getting better grades. It made the only son's heart soar to see his mother smile because of him. She had done it so rarely since the tragic loss of her husband. His life seemed so much better with the youth center and Carl in his life.

Then came the first trip to the cabin.

The first time his mentor invited him to the cabin was about nine months after Derek had started to go to the youth center. It had been fun at first. Carl didn't do anything right away. They fished and Carl taught Derek to play poker. The older man let his young guest stay up late and even gave him some beer to drink, which made the boy, who was unaccustomed to alcohol, very sleepy. He fell asleep on the couch before he had finished half of a bottle.

When he woke the next morning, he and Carl had had a quick breakfast before going off on a long hike through the surrounding forest. It was a bittersweet experience for the younger hiker; he and his father had liked to walk through the forest preserves, particularly Chevalier Woods, and this hike was bringing back those good memories but also the terrible pain as he thought of how his father was gone and would never return.

When they stopped for lunch, Carl seemed to notice that something was wrong. He sat close to Derek, their knees bumping frequently. The unknowing soon-to-be victim thought that Carl was just trying to comfort him.

As they finished up lunch, Carl told the thirteen year old about how he had lost his father when he was sixteen. He tried to comfort the boy by telling him that the hurt got less and less difficult to bear. While he talked, Derek noticed that Carl's hand was gently squeezing his leg. He didn't find that so strange; his mother did that sometimes and so had his father. What did seem a bit off was that Carl's had his hand placed a few inches higher than Derek thought was normal.

'So what?' the teen thought. 'It's probably just an accident. It's not like Carl would do anything bad to me.'

How wrong the poor boy was.

That night, they ate some of the fish they had caught on their hike and Carl gave Derek some more beer, although only a small glass this time. Once they had cleaned up, Carl suggested they go for a swim since the humid July weather was becoming almost unbearable. Derek loved to swim and immediately agreed but then he remembered he hadn't brought his swim trunks.

'Don't worry about it,' Carl had said. 'Just take off your clothes and go skinny dipping. We're both guys; you haven't got anything I don't.'

Derek was a bit fuzzy headed from the beer he had drank at dinner so he complied with Carl's suggestion and soon the two Chicagoans were swimming around the lake, splashing and swimming around in the cool, clear lake water, not a stitch on either body.

The older man brushed up against the teenager several times during their swim and, while it made Derek uncomfortable, he didn't think that his mentor was doing it on purpose.

He realized too late that he was wrong.

After they had come in and dried off, Derek and Carl were sitting in the front room of the cottage that served as a living room, dining room, and kitchen, drinking some more beer and watching a game on the small television in the corner. The younger occupant of the room was beginning to drift off again from a combination of exertion from their busy day and the alcohol coursing through his system.

Before he fell asleep, Carl asked him if he wanted to do something really fun. When the boy asked what it was, Carl told him to close his eyes because it was a surprise.

Well, Carl wasn't going to do something mean or bad, Derek told himself, and he said it was really fun. Why not do it?

He closed his eyes and waited for this "fun" to begin.

Nothing happened for a moment and the teen was just about to open his eyes when he felt it.

The dark brown eyes flew open and stared in shock as his mentor slid his hand over the young boy's hip until it rested over the fly of the jean shorts Derek was wearing.

'What are you doing?' Derek had screamed once he got over the shock of the man's hand invading his most private of areas. 'Get the hell away from me!'

The small boy tried to get away but Carl grabbed his arms and told him not to worry, that it would feel really good in a few minutes.

Derek wasn't stupid; he knew what the man was alluding to and he was beyond not interested. He felt like he would be sick, right then and there, at the thought of him doing..._that_ to him.

Again, he screamed and tried to run from the man a second time but he was on the smaller side for his age and Carl's patience had run out.

The sick man had wanted this young boy since the first time the boy's mother had brought him to the center. There was just something about the boy that had hooked him and from that day on, Carl Buford had done everything he could to get close enough to the boy to gain his and his mother's trust so that he could get the light skinned kid all to himself.

Derek was again in shock when Carl pushed him roughly down into a horizontal position on the couch and began to threaten the young boy underneath him. He told Derek that if he didn't do whatever Carl wanted, that he would stop helping him with sports and let him go back to being a pathetic gang banger wanna-be like he had been before and he would make sure that Gordinski made as much trouble as he could for the young boy.

Carl had finished his threats with a well-placed comment about how heart-broken his mother would be when he went back to the gangs and got himself shot and how ashamed his father would have been if he were still around to know what Derek had done.

That had been it for Derek. He knew he couldn't go back to the gangs; it hurt him too much to make his mother sad and he couldn't bear to do something that his father would be ashamed of him for.

So, from that day on, Derek Morgan was Carl Buford victim and remained trapped in that hellish nightmare for the next five years. The abuse would stop then but the effects it had would last for the rest of his life.

"Thanks for telling me that, Momma," the emotional man sniffled, managing to keep the tears at bay. "I think I really needed to hear that."

"It's true, baby," she whispered. "And I feel the same way as he would. I'm never going to be able to forgive myself for not seeing what was right in front of me."

"Momma," Derek said softly, "it wasn't your fau-"

"No, Derek," Fran said firmly. "I am your mother. I am supposed to protect you. I should have seen what was wrong. If you ever have children, you'll understand how I feel."

The mocha skinned man did not speak. He knew that his mother was right; he couldn't understand what it must be like for a parent to know something so bad had happened to their child right under their nose.

There was a long moment of silence. Fran broke it by saying, "Honey, I think that the only thing you can do for Spencer is to remember your experiences and trust yourself to help him. Let him lead how you help him. Give him pushes when he needs it. Let him know you know how it feels and that he won't be alone in this."

"Yeah," Derek said slowly, "yeah, that's good advice, Momma. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," his mother said. "I need to get going, though, baby. Desi wants to meet me for brunch at Lou Mitchell's in an hour and a half and I still need to get ready. I'd just woken up when you called."

"Ok, Momma," Derek said. "Tell Desi I say hi and I miss her."

"Alright," Fran agreed. "Call me again soon."

"I will, Momma," he assured her. "I love you."

"Oh, I love you, too, honey," Fran Morgan said before hanging up the phone.


	30. Chapter 30

When Derek got off the phone with his mother, he looked at the clock and saw that it was close to nine o'clock. Breakfast time was nearing and Reid should be getting up soon, seeing as how he had only had one nightmare the previous night. He was unaware that the reason for his friend only having one nightmare was because he hadn't slept long enough for any more than one.

In the mood for something sweet, Derek began to prepare some French toast out of the thick Hawaiian bread he had bought the day before. He grabbed a few eggs, some cinnamon, nutmeg, and mixed them together in a bowl.

While he was melting some butter in the skillet, the tell-tale sound of Reid's crutch came thumping from the hallway.

"Morning," Derek tried to sound bright and carefree. "I'm making some French toast for us."

"Sounds good," the skinny FBI agent mumbled, standing in the doorway. "Need me to do anything?"

"I've got this covered," Morgan answered, "but you could slice up some fruit to put on top, if you want. There're strawberries in the fridge and bananas over there."

He jerked his head to the right, showing Reid where a bunch of bananas hung from a little stand with a hook at the end.

Reid hobbled over to the yellow fruit and extracted one from the bunch. He then proceeded to put the banana on the table and get the strawberries out of the fridge.

"Here's a cutting board and a knife," Morgan helped out, placing said items on the table so Reid wouldn't have to stand to cut up the fruit.

Soon the pair had a delicious breakfast of fresh fruit French toast, milk, and sausage.

Morgan noticed that Reid didn't take much and what he did take mostly got pushed around the syrupy plate.

"Why aren't you eating, Pretty Boy?" the older man asked. "You love French toast."

"Not that hungry," the young doctor mumbled.

Morgan said nothing, just nodded and continued to devour his sweet entrée.

"So," the chocolate skinned man said after the pair had finished eating (or picking in Reid's case), "what should we do today?"

"I don't know," Reid mumbled.

"Well," Morgan tried again to engage his younger friend, "what kind of stuff do you normally do on Saturdays?"

"Lots of stuff," he answered.

"Like…" the other man pressed, determined to keep Reid from closing himself off.

"Like go to book stores or the library," Reid sighed. He knew Morgan wasn't going to let him stay in and do absolutely nothing, like he wanted, and even if Morgan _did _let him do that, then his friend would know that something was wrong.

"Come on, man, you gotta do more than that," said friend encouraged.

"Uh, I hang out with Prentiss or Garcia sometimes," Reid responded. "I go to JJ's and spend time with her and Henry and Will, if he's there. I go to museums. I go to movies and, uh," he made air quotes, "movies, if you catch my meaning, when I've had a bad week."

"Do you want to go to a," he made air quotes as well, "movie?"

Reid thought for a moment. If he went, he wouldn't have to keep up the façade that he was showing Morgan and the rest of the team. He would be in a room full of addicts; it wouldn't look out of place for him to seem troubled. He would also probably see John. The older agent often went to meetings on Saturday mornings, Reid knew. They frequently went out to eat together after meetings. But if John _was_ there, Reid knew that he would try to get the younger man to talk and Reid just wasn't ready for that.

"No," he answered. "I'm good right now. I don't need to go."

"Lemme know if that changes, ok, Kid?" Morgan wasn't really asking.

"I will," Reid promised anyway.

"Why don't we get ready and head to the library and stop by Borders or whatever book store you feel like then grab some lunch and catch a movie in the afternoon," Morgan suggested.

"Sure," the tall, skinny brunette replied, plastering a small smile on his face. Morgan saw that it didn't reach any farther than his lips. His eyes remained empty, almost…dead looking. "Sounds good."

~~~~~CM~~~~~

While Reid perused the books that Border's had on one of their computer kiosks, Morgan took the chance to do some looking of his own.

The section on grief and trauma was, thankfully, out of the skinny man's light of sight. Most of the books in that section had to do with death. A few were about miscarrying a child and there were a few of lots of other kinds of traumas.

On the very bottom shelf, there were seven books about rape. Five were about recovering and two addressed Rape Trauma Syndrome which, Derek knew, was essentially a form of PTSD.

After flipping through all six and reading the summaries, the dark skinned man chose three of the available eight books. Reid hadn't been diagnosed with RTS so that took three out. One of the remaining books was a religious book and Reid wasn't religious. One seemed pretty new age-y to Morgan and Derek didn't think that that would be something Reid would be interested in. He didn't seem like the type to meditate. Two he chose appeared to be the most legitimate and like things Reid would probably be willing to try, like getting a new hobby or changing something about their life (moving or changing one's appearance). The last was about helping a loved one through this type of tragedy. From what Garcia's "Hot Stuff" could gather, it gave techniques for addressing the victim and helping them work through what had happened to them, while being supportive and understanding.

After making sure that he really wanted all three books, Derek made his way to the counter and paid for his purchases. He didn't want Reid to know that he was researching

~~~~~CM~~~~~

Meanwhile, Reid was trying to find something that piqued his interested. It wasn't working. He looked through the Science Fiction books, some psychology books, and a whole host of other things that usually interested him. Nothing.

He still felt that empty feeling all throughout his body. It was like nothing mattered anymore. He wasn't happy or sad or anything. Just empty.

He finally decided to get his mother a book about the literature of the Middle Ages and himself one on the science of various futuristic Sci-Fi books and movies. He didn't really care if he read it or not but he figured that Morgan would have quite a lot to say if he didn't buy anything for himself.

"Find anything good, Pretty Boy?" Morgan inquired as he walked up beside the kiosk.

"Yeah," Reid answered, writing down the information to find the books on a scrap of paper left by the keyboard. "Just need to find these two things and I am ready to leave."

"Give it here and I'll find them," the uninjured man said.

Reid handed the paper over, seeing as how he couldn't easily navigate through the cramped aisles of the bookstore. Morgan strode off to find the two texts and returned ten minutes later with the books already paid for.

"Why did you do that?" Reid asked. "I can pay for my own stuff, Morgan."

"I know that, Pretty Boy," Morgan said as he pushed his friend's wheelchair through the throng of people crowded around the features table. Looked like Oprah's new must read or something.

"Then why'd you pay for them?" the immobile man asked, a bit peeved that Morgan hadn't let him purchase his own books.

"Just doing something nice for my friend," the older man said noncommittally. "Where should we go for lunch? There're some fast food joints, I'm sure. There's a barbeque place somewhere around here. Some regular old diner type places. There's a pizza place not too far away. What're you in the mood for?"

"Nothing in particular," he responded in a monotone. "Whatever you want. I chose last time, anyway."

"You sure?"

Reid nodded.

They ended up going to the barbeque restaurant. It was one of the few types of food they hadn't eaten recently. Morgan ate ravenously but Reid simply picked at a pulled pork sandwich.

"Still not hungry?" Morgan was joking outwardly but inwardly, he was worried. Reid wasn't eating very well. There was about half of the Chicken Tandoori from the other night was in the fridge. He had barely eaten the pasta from last night. And all he had done at breakfast this morning, really, was poke and push the syrupy French toast around his plate, taking a bite every so often when Morgan looked at him.

Instead of answering, Reid took a big bite of the sandwich, as if to prove to Morgan that he was eating.

"So, there any movies out right now that you want to see?" the mocha skinned man asked.

Reid shook his head, "I almost never watch TV so I don't even know what's out right now."

"Yeah, I don't know either," Morgan said. "Looks like we'll have to check."

He slid his iPhone out of his back pocket and began searching for what was playing at the local theater.

"Hmm," he said, skimming over the list that came up. "Doesn't look like there's much good out right now. Oh, I know what to go see."

"What?" Reid asked.

"Nuh-uh," his older friend waggled his finger towards the skinny man across from him, "it's a surprise."

~~~~~CM~~~~~

"I can't believe you took me to a kid movie," Reid muttered, a slight red tinge on his cheeks as he and his chauffer exited the theater amidst the dozens of children who had been in the theater with them.

"Come on, man," Morgan chuckled, narrowly avoiding a little boy who cut in front of the chair, "it wasn't that bad. It was kinda funny."

"You know who goes to kids' movies without any kids?" Reid asked. Before Morgan could answer, the embarrassed man continued in a hushed voice, "Pedophiles, that's who!"

A mother looked over towards them sharply and glared.

"Be quiet, man!" Morgan hissed back.

"I'm just saying," Reid said as they exited the theater, "it's a bit strange that two men unaccompanied by a child to pay to see a movie targeted for children."

"Ah, who cares?" Morgan scoffed, helping Reid into the SUV he was borrowing from the Bureau. "So we looked a little out of place. It's no one we know, no one that will remember us. And besides, we have such a horrific and stressful job. What with that and…everything that's happened recently we need some good, ol' innocent laughs once in a while."


	31. Chapter 31

Sunday was spent much the same as the other days since Reid had been released from the hospital. The skinny, injured man spent the majority of his day alternating between watching television or DVDs and reading. Or, at least, that's what Morgan thought he was doing. In reality, he was sitting and staring, unseeing, at the screen or the page, flipping channels or turning pages when appropriate.

That night, Reid went to bed straight after he had eaten (or shuffled his food around his plate, more like) and helped dry the dishes. Morgan tried to get him to play some poker or Gin Rummy or watch another movie, but Spencer Reid had made up his mind.

Reid spent the next eight hours laying in Morgan's bed, unable to stop the thoughts swirling around in his exceptional mind; memories of Harold Michaels' torture; thoughts of his mother and how much he wished that he could simply go to her and be held like she had done when she was lucid enough to realize that he had been bullied; memories of his father and how he wished that the man had been there for him before and could be there for him now; thought of how much he missed his friends…and how pointless and futile life seemed since his tragic kidnapping.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

"Up and at 'em, Pretty Boy!" Morgan called brightly from the doorway. "Breakfast is on the table and we need to leave in an hour for the appointment at that place in Maryland. Its only bagels and cream cheese but I didn't have time to make anything big."

"Its fine," Reid mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I'm not even hungry."

He had fallen asleep sometime around four and had woken up from nightmares three times. Morgan had raced in and roused him each time but, needless to say, he wasn't very well rested. His eyes felt like someone had poured a dump truck full of sand in them and he was very achy from head to toe.

"You sure?" the now concerned man asked his friend. "You really should eat. You're already too skinny."

"I'm fine!" the injured man snapped. When his friend opened his mouth, looking slightly hurt (and more than a little worried), he amended his tone and quietly said, "I'm really just not that hungry right now. I'd like to take a bath before we leave, if that's alright."

"Of course," Morgan answered quickly. "I'll go run some water for you."

They went through the same ritual of Reid getting very uncomfortable while he undressed and refusing to take off his boxers. The pair didn't talk much while Morgan helped Reid into the tub. After he had, Reid mumbled a thank you to his friend and, as soon as Morgan had shut the door, slid down until just his nose and mouth were sticking out. He stayed like that for a while; long enough for the water to start feeling a bit cool, before he finally emerged and washed up.

Soon, Morgan knocked and told him that they needed to leave in 20 minutes, so Reid needed to get out of the bath.

After Reid had slowly dressed himself, they were on their way to Silver Spring, Maryland.

Morgan turned on some music with the volume low and tried to get Reid to talk to him.

"How about we play some more Truth?" he asked.

"I guess," Reid replied quietly as he looked out the window to the houses and trees and little kids playing that were flashing by.

"Well," Morgan said, pausing to switch lanes before continuing, "it's your turn, so ask your worst, Pretty Boy."

Reid thought for a moment. He wasn't sure what he should his friend. He honestly was more in the mood to just stare out the window and watch as everything passed them by. It seemed…soothing to him, almost. He couldn't have explained why to anyone; he couldn't even explain it to himself.

Finally, he asked something he had been wondering for…well, it seemed like forever.

"Why haven't you told Garcia you like her?"

"Garcia knows I like her," Morgan answered, glancing over at his friend.

"Not _that _way," Reid sighed. "Man, everyone knows how crazy you are about her. Why don't you just tell her?"

"What are you talking about?" Morgan asked, completely and seriously unaware of how his and Garcia's relationship seemed to his colleagues. "I'm not crazy about her. She's just one of my best friends."

"Well, we're best friends," Reid said, a small smile on his face, "but our friendship is certainly nothing like you guys'. We act like best friends. You two alternate between acting like two love-struck teenagers and an old couple who've been married for, like, 30 years."

"Pssh, that's ridiculous, man," Morgan scoffed. "We don't act like that."

"You offered to stay home from a case just so you could be with her after she got back from being shot," the young genius pointed out. "When I got shot and couldn't even walk, all you did was drive me home from the hospital."

Morgan huffed loudly and switched lanes to pass a very slow sedan in front of Morgan's borrowed Bureau SUV.

"Even if I _did _like her," Morgan unsuccessfully tried to seem unflustered, "and she liked me, she's with Kevin. Why would she be dating him if she had a thing for me, like you are saying?"

"My mother say that certain girls," Reid said sagely, "the _right _kind of girls know when a guy is ready to get serious. I think that Garcia is that kind of girl and she saw that you weren't ready yet. Why else did she not date anyone between the guy she broke up with the guy she was dating and Kevin? Who did she meet just weeks before she dumped, um, oh, I think his name was Gary or Garrett or something, and made an immediate connection with? You.

"She fell for you but she knew you weren't done with your bachelor days. She waited around for years but you still weren't ready to settle down with someone and then Kevin came into the picture. She wanted someone to be with and they were a lot alike. It's not surprising that they are together, really."

"Alright, enough of this," Morgan finally decided. "My turn. What is the most embarrassing you've ever done?"

"Well," Reid mumbled, cheeks tingeing slightly pink, "the whole 'movies' thing, I suppose. Getting hooked in the first place, flipping out at Emily, and all that."

"I meant when you were a kid," Morgan said quietly.

"That's not what you said," was the injured brunette's reply. From someone else it may have petty or rude but from Reid, it was just his usual, straightforward genius-y demeanor.

"Alright," the older man faked exasperation, "you're turn."

Reid had grown tired of talking. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of being left alone with his thoughts but he was already on edge from the upcoming tours of the facilities where he was sure to see what he might become if the debilitating disease his mother had struck him, too.

After the skinny passenger voiced his wish to stop the game, the pair lapsed into silence. Perhaps five minutes later, Morgan turned on a jazz station and let it play quietly in the background, accompanied by the rushing air outside the car and the occasional car horn honking at F sharp.

They arrived at a decent sized, two-story house. It looked well looked after but age worn. There were rose bushes in front and some small decorative pine shrubs lining the walk. Luckily, there was no stairs to get into the house, just a small

Inside, however, was a different story.

The paint was chipped and the wallpaper had peeled away from the wall in places. It smelled unpleasantly like body odor and a bit like dirty gas station bathrooms.

"You must be Mr. Reid," came a cool voice. "I'm Harriet."

The two men turned to see a plump, older woman dressed in dark blue scrubs. She looked annoyed, as if they were imposing on her for showing up for their scheduled visit.

"Let's get on with this, then," she sighed and started the tour of the house. "This is a long term, mental health facility. This house is currently occupied by people who have schizophrenia. At this time, there are five people residing in this house."

They were led into the living room. It was in much the same condition as the hallway, neglected and smelly. Some worn furniture was scattered throughout the room and there were three people in the room. One was watching the television and another was mumbling about people seeing into his mind through the screen while he huddled in a corner. The third was sitting at a table writing something.

"This is the kitchen," Harriet explained with a huff. "Residents have access to one refrigerator that is stocked with drinks and snack items. If they want to cook, they need the permission and the supervision of a nurse or a visiting family member. We've had problems with fires in the past, hence the supervision. Don't need these nuts burning us all to death."

The last part was said under her breath and brown haired man would have thought he heard wrong if not for the expression on Morgan's face that he could see reflected in a mirror at the end of the hall they were now in.

"Chill out, Morgan," Reid hissed as Harriet the Horrible droned on about the bedroom and its amenities (a thin mattress covered in stained sheets and threadbare blankets, a night table, and a dresser each as well as a small, shared closet). "Let's just get this over with and then we can report this place and her."

Morgan made a noise, as if to protest but the nurse was leading them to see the back yard. There was some plastic patio furniture in the fairly large yard but not much else a part from a small patch of dirt that was there for any resident who might like to garden. Supposedly, they could request whatever they wanted to plant and get permission to use the tools (that were locked in the garage so they could become weapons in the midst of someone's delusion) so they could grow things but it was empty right now.

"That's the tour," Harriet concluded. "If you want to know anything else, call whoever set up this tour."

She showed them to the front door and barely gave them enough time to cross the threshold before it was slammed behind them.

"I think that one is a definite no," Morgan said sarcastically. "Wouldn't you?"


	32. Chapter 32

It was nearing lunch time when the pair's tour abruptly ended so they drove around for a few minutes until they found a little tavern that looked like it had been there for over half a century.

They were seated immediately which was surprising since the place was packed. It seemed to be the local dive that everyone went to. It was run down and kind of dingy but if the amount of people eating was any indication, the food was fantastic.

Morgan got a burger and fries while Reid ordered a turkey club. The food arrived in a timely fashion and it looked delicious. The burger was a little bit greasy and the fries were a crisp golden brown while the turkey was hand carved and bacon was salty and crunchy, just like it should be.

They lingered in the restaurant. There was time before their one o'clock appointment in Colchester and Morgan was hoping that if he took long enough eating and if that delectable looking sandwich sat there long enough, his brown haired friend would get hungry or just give in and eat.

He didn't.

The drive to Colchester was filled with talk of how they were going to file a complaint about the rude nurse and the deplorable conditions those poor people were being kept in. It was decided that they would call back the number Reid had used to set up the tour and they would see what that person said or did. If that didn't work, they would be taking a trip to the head offices of whoever ran that dump and giving them a piece of their minds.

When Morgan pulled the SUV off of the 95, it was still a little too early to go to the meeting, so they went to a McDonald's a few minutes up the road in Lorton and grabbed a couple of drinks, Coke for Reid and iced tea for Morgan. The rest of the time before they needed to be at the hospital was filled by a scenic drive down the coast of Belmont Bay.

At ten to one, Morgan pulled into a parking spot in front of a very nice building surrounded by equally nice grounds. It was the complete opposite from the other place.

"You must be Mr. Reid," a young woman sitting at the front desk smiled brightly. She got up and came around the desk to shake their hands. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's actually Dr. Reid," Morgan commented. "I'm his friend, Derek Morgan."

"It's nice to meet you, as well, Mr. Morgan," the girl said sincerely. "I'm Heather. I will be giving you the tour and then, if you wish, the manager is more than happy to speak with you regarding placement and finances."

She led them through a door on the right of the desk and they entered a living area. It was much larger than a normal living room but it had many of the same things in it. There was a couch and two arm chairs, all fairly new looking, across from a large television that was showing some show that neither man recognized. There were tables and, near them, a few shelves stocked with board games and playing cards for various games. There were chairs in other places around the room, some solitary, like the ones near the windows and others in clusters. One was being used for what looked like a visiting family right now.

About a dozen people were in the room doing various things. Three people were watching TV. Two men were playing a game of checkers. One woman was sitting in the bay window, looking out at the beautiful wonders of nature outside.

"This is our common room, if you will," Heather explained. "It's where our residents can come to spend their free time. They are free to stay in their rooms but most of the stable patients spend a lot of time in here. They socialize with the other patients and a lot of the doctors and nurses spend their free time during the day in here, too. This is also where a lot of family visits happen. The residents here have a nice sitting room with chairs, a couch, and a coffee table, but it can get a little crowded and stuffy if more than just a couple of people come. If you want to talk to some of the residents that are in here, we can come back after I finish showing you around."

Reid indicated that he would very much like to get someone who lived here's perspective so Heather assured him that they could come back before he talked to the manager.

She then led him into the dining room. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't set up like a cafeteria like at Bennington. It looked more like a buffet restaurant than anything else. There were drink dispensers on one wall and a table with condiments next to them. They had every kind of juice, soda, coffee, and tea imaginable available. In the center of the room were two long buffet tables. They were being emptied by some young men, barely out of high school, by the looks of it, but they didn't seem to be upset by their work. On the contrary, they were laughing and talking to one of the residents who was just finishing up his lunch.

"All of the meals are served in here," Heather told her tour takers, "with the exception of anyone who is physically sick or in too much mental distress to come down from their room. Breakfast is served from seven to nine in the mornings, lunch from eleven to one, and dinner from five to seven. Each meal has several choices for entrée, side, and dessert each day with a few staples, like cereal and fruit or sandwich fixings, that are always available. On a resident's birthday, they are allowed to request something specific for one meal. I've eaten here quite a few times when I've forgotten to bring lunch or something, and I have to say, the food is terrific and generally very healthy. They serve things like burgers and fries, of course, but they use the healthiest oils and such so it isn't as bad as what you would normally find."

They then went to a gym-like room. There were mats and some soft looking balls lying around, but Reid assumed most of whatever equipment they had was locked in the closets along the far wall.

"The gym is, obviously, used so that residents can get some exercise," Heather informed the men. "It's open every day between lunch and dinner but the instructor is out sick today so we had to keep it closed. He teaches basic classes in a variety of different disciplines throughout the week, like Pilates, Tae Bo, and he's recently started doing some structured sports. We weren't sure how the gym class would work out and we didn't want anyone to get hurt, what with there being the potential for psychotic breaks and loss of stability, but it's been going really well, so we added on some more strenuous things."

Reid was surprised. There was nothing like this at Bennington. The closest thing was a walking path around the yard.

Heather then led them to an elevator which took them upstairs to the residents' rooms. She pulled out a key and opened one.

"This is the only free room we have right now," she said, "so this is the one you're, you said it was your mother you were here for, right?"

Reid nodded.

"Well," the girl smiled, "this is the room she would get, if you decided to come here, and I have to say, it's lucky for her that it's this room. It's a corner room and they have a slightly bigger bedroom and twice as much window space as the other rooms. The view from this one is phenomenal. You can see the bay from here and you can see the boats from the marina coming and going, too. A woman that I was friends with had this room but, unfortunately, she died last week. Not here," she hastened to assure them. "She had been in the hospital for several weeks. She was dying of kidney cancer."

The sitting room was very nice. It was painted light blue and had white trim. There were no curtains on the one window (probably worried about hangings) but there were some tasteful white shades with dark blue trim. There was a dark blue sofa and two arm chairs arranged in the room with a light blue rug and a dark, wooden coffee table in the middle.

They then went through to the bedroom. The room was spacious and bright from the three windows on the outer walls. In between the two windows on the wall to the right of the door was a full sized bed. There was a dark blue comforter set with two white piped squares, one inside of the other, near the edges of the comforter. There were also some white pillows with the same kind of piping in dark blue. Next to the bed was a nightstand with a lamp.

On the other wall was one window and a dresser made of the same dark wood as the bed, the nightstand, and the coffee table in the sitting room.

The wall opposite the bed had two doors. Heather opened the one on the left to reveal a closet. It wasn't terribly big, but it was big enough to be considered a walk in.

The other door revealed a bathroom. It was decorated in similar colors as the other two rooms. Light blue walls, white tiles on the floor, and dark blue towels and accessories were found in the room. There was a sink and toilet that were both white and a towel stand that was made of dark wood like the other wooden furniture in the suite.

There was no tub. "To reduce suicide by drowning," Heather told them. His mother wouldn't be thrilled with that, Reid thought. She liked to take baths but everything else was wonderful.

Then Reid's thoughts travelled to the money. He could never afford a place like this. His insurance didn't cover his mother's condition because it was preexisting and Medicaid certainly wouldn't be enough to cover a place like this. He knew he would be able to afford this place and his heart sunk. He had been looking forward to seeing his mother more often, hopefully once a week, at least. Now, though, it didn't look like it would happen.

"Why don't I show you back to the common room so that you can talk to the residents and then we'll go talk to the manager," Heather suggested. "If you are interested, of course."

"I am," Reid said, "but I really would like to talk to some residents and maybe some family members, if any are here first."

So Heather led her two tour takers back downstairs to the common room and left them to chat, saying she would be back in about twenty minutes or so to show them to the manager's office.

Reid and Morgan found an older woman sitting in a chair by a window, staring out at the grass and trees and flowers and birds.

"Hello, Ma'am," Morgan said. "Mind if we talk for a minute?"

She looked up from the window and replied, "That would be fine."

"Do you like living here?" Reid asked.

"Yes," she replied thoughtfully. "Of course, I would much rather live in my own home but I know that that is not possible. I'm too ill for my husband to care for me anymore. It is very nice here and he visits me quite often."

"Are the people here nice?" Morgan inquired. "The doctors and nurses and the kitchen people?"

"Oh, yes," the woman assured them. "They're all very kind to all of the patients here. Except for one nurse, but they fired her, over a year ago. Even the kitchen boys are nice to me. They always take my plate for me instead of making me take it to the dirty dish bin."

"Thank you for talking to us," the younger man said.

They then looked around to see if there was anyone else to talk to. The couple that had been visiting before was looking like they were about ready to leave and Reid really wanted to get an outsiders perspective on this place before he decided.

"Excuse me," Reid called as Morgan pushed his chair closer to the couple. "I'm looking into placing my mother here and I would really like to know what you think of this place. Get an outsider's opinion."

"Oh, of course," the woman agreed. "Well, my brother's been here for almost two years now and we love it. He likes the people and, as you can see, the facilities are great. The doctors are professional yet approachable and very good at finding the right combination of medicines to help their patients."

"How are the prices?" the brown haired man asked.

"It's a little bit pricier than say a state hospital but it is worth it," the man said. "It was honestly a lot cheaper than I had anticipated but apparently the man who founded Safe Haven was obscenely rich and left his entire estate of several hundred million dollars to the care of as many patients as could be helped. I was told by one of the nurses that he lost a big part of his family to mental illness and he wanted to do as much as he could to help others from having to put their loved ones in a rundown state hospital where no one cared."

"This place sounds almost too good to be true," Morgan commented.

"It feels that way," the woman replied. "I don't know what we would have done without it. I hated leaving Mark in those rundown, overcrowded state run places but I had my children to think about. I couldn't have someone who might have a psychotic break around them. He could have hurt or even killed them in the midst of one of his delusions."

Reid nodded. He knew exactly how she felt. He was often afraid of what his mother would do during her breaks from reality. The fear had eased once he was able to commit her but he still woke up from nightmares of her hurting herself or getting a call in the middle of the night from Bennington saying that she had killed herself. These nightmares were worse than the few he still had of Tobias.

"I wish we could talk longer," the man said, "but we have to get going to pick up our kids from school. It was nice to meet you, though, and hopefully we'll see you here again."

"Yes," Reid agreed. "It was nice meeting you as well."

The couple left, leaving Reid with nothing else to do besides talk to the manager.

The two FBI agents found Heather back at the front desk. She looked up from her work and immediately stood to lead them to wherever it was that the manager was.

They went through a door behind the desk and were left to have the talk with the manager.

"I'll wait for you outside," Morgan informed his friend, who nodded and turned to the man behind the desk.

"I'm Joseph Harding," the man behind the desk stood and leaned towards Reid to shake hands. "I am the manager of Safe Haven Hospital, a place where those society scorns can feel at peace."

The skinny man realized that he must have given Mr. Harding a strange look because the man laughed and said, "I know it's ridiculous but that stupid phrase is the slogan for this place and the people who are in charge of the estate that funds us make me say it."

Reid cracked a small smile.

"Now," Joseph said, "let's get down to business. From what I understand, you are looking for a place for your mother, right?"

"Yes," he replied. "She's in a sanitarium in Las Vegas but…I would like her to live closer to me."

"Of course," the manager agreed. "Well, as I am sure Heather told you, we have one spot currently available. Without any kind of aid, it runs about two-thousand five hundred dollars a month."

Reid felt a stone of disappointment drop into his stomach. He couldn't afford that much money. That would come out to thirty thousand dollars a year and that was a little over half of his take home, if he combined his salary from the FBI, teaching and lecturing, and all of the other things he did, like working on textbooks or gambling once in a while. He supposed that he could gamble more and try and pay for his mother's care that way but he was hesitant to do that. He didn't want to have to rely on something that wasn't absolute to pay for his mother's care.

His hopes rose, however, when Joseph continued, "However, if your mother qualifies for Medicaid, which I am sure she will, they generally pay about half."

That was certainly a better number. He could swing fifteen grand a year for his mother. And he hadn't even added in what she earned from social security and her benefits from when she taught. That would knock off about another four or five thousand.

"She was on Medicaid in Nevada," Reid commented.

"She should almost certainly be covered here as well, then," Joseph assured him. "If someone managed to get on another state's Medicaid program, this state is hardly going to deny them."

From there, it was simply a matter of filling out paper work (there was a lot of it) and making a deposit. Since Reid didn't have his check book with him, the manager said it would be fine if he mailed it to them and requested that they be notified of when to expect Diana to arrive.


	33. Chapter 33

The trip home was another quiet one. There wasn't much talking between the two. Reid watched the scenery fly by and Morgan kept his eyes on the road.

They returned to Morgan's two story home at about three-thirty in the afternoon. Morgan told Reid that he needed to do some stuff on his computer for a while, so he would be in the kitchen but that if the mostly immobile man needed anything to just holler. Reid said he would (even though they both knew he probably wouldn't) and Morgan disappeared.

Morgan hadn't been completely honest with Reid when he told him that he didn't have to work until Reid was recovered. While Strauss had been sympathetic to Reid situation, she didn't understand why Morgan needed to be on leave as well. From reading the young genius's personnel file, she knew that his father was alive and well and told Hotch that if the injured profiler needed help that he should ask his father. Hotch explained that they were estranged and William Reid probably wouldn't come. Hotch did not believe this (from what he saw of the elder Reid, it seemed like the man wanted to make up for everything) but he thought that it would sound better than telling her the Reid would never ask his father for anything. In the end, she agreed to let Morgan work from home, doing consults by email.

~~~~~CM~~~~~

While Morgan went into the kitchen, Reid laid back on the couch and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. He had barely slept in days but no matter what he tried, he couldn't fall asleep. His brain, which used to be the only thing that ever made him special, was now the thing that tormented him, not only during the day but now his night times were torture as well.

Reid stayed lying on the couch, dozing for about half an hour before he got up. He needed to call his mother and ask her what she thought about moving to Virginia.

The phone rang three times before Dr. Norman picked up. The two doctors chatted for a brief moment about Diana's condition (which was close to the same as the last time they had spoken) before Diana Reid came to the phone.

"Hello, baby," the mother cooed to her only son. "How are you doing?"

"I'm…getting better," Spencer told his mom diplomatically. And it wasn't _really _a lie. He was getting better, physically. Mentally and emotionally was a completely different story but she didn't need to know about that.

""That's good," Diana commented, although her son thought he heard a hint of doubt in her voice. "Those fascists you work for are letting you have plenty of time off, right? It won't do to have you back to work too soon, you know."

"I know, Mom," her son agreed in a placating tone. "They are letting me have lots of time to recover from this. Three months.

"Mom," he sighed, unsure of what his mother's reaction would be, "I want to talk to you about someth-"

But that was as far as he got because Diana cut him off.

"I should come to live by you, Spencer," the schizophrenic stated firmly. "It is absolutely ridiculous for us to live so far apart and I know that it scares you to see me when I'm not myself but I need to see you more, darling. You have a very dangerous job and I couldn't bear it if something terrible happened and I hadn't gotten to see you in months."

You could have knocked Dr. Spencer Reid over with a feather (not that hard of a feat, actually, given how skinny the man was) from the shock of hearing what his mother had to say. He was shocked for two reasons. One, he had not been expecting that his mother would be so willing to leave Las Vegas. It had always been her home, from the time she was a newborn. The second reason the flabbergasted man was so surprised was because he had no idea he had been so transparent. He thought that the woman who gave him life thought he was too busy with work to visit very often. Never had he had an inkling that his mother knew the real reason. Although, he thought, he shouldn't really be shocked; Diana was a brilliant woman, even with the devastating disease that afflicted her mind.

"Now, if you can't afford it, I have some money saved in the bank that you can use. I never thought that it was right for you to use your hard earned money on me but you never would agree with me on that. If the new place isn't as nice as here, I'll understand. I don't imagine living so close to Washington D.C. is cheap."

"Don't worry about that, Mom," Spencer stopped her rambling. "I actually was calling to tell you that I found a hospital near to me and I was…well, I was hoping that you would move here."

"It's settled then," she replied. "I am coming to Virginia to live near my baby. But Spencer, please don't make me fly. Get me a ticket for the Greyhound; I can't bear flying, even to see you, I'm afraid."

Reid realized that he hadn't thought about how his mother would come to Virginia. Flying was out of the question; it simply frightened Diana too much. But who would take the Greyhound with her? He couldn't fly out there until after the splints could come off.

It briefly crossed his mind that he could ask his dad to bring his mother here but he quickly dismissed that thought. He hadn't talked to his dad in almost two years; there was no way that he could ask William for something. He couldn't let his father know how horrible everything was. No matter how angry Spencer was with his father, a part of him still yearned for his father's love and anything less than perceivable perfection could make that desire impossible.

"Are you still there, Spencer?" Diana's voice broke him from his thoughts.

"Yeah, Mom," the only child replied. "Sorry, I was just thinking. I'll figure something out so you don't have to fly, don't worry. I'll call you again when I have it planned out, alright?"

"Thank you, darling," his mother answered him.

"I'll talk to you soon, Mom," Spencer told the woman on the other end of the line.

Diana offered her own parting and the two hung up, content with the knowledge that they would be seeing each other soon.


	34. Chapter 34

Morgan groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He had just spent the last two hours and forty-five minutes working on three and a half consults and his head was aching.

Two had been from small towns that had little or no experience with murders. They weren't serial murders but the officers just didn't know enough about murder investigations in general to know what to do. The third was from a suburb near Annapolis who had a problem with a serial killer but it was a simple enough case. It was only a matter of setting a simple trap at the next town meeting, where all the previous victims had been last seen. The fourth was a little trickier. Two families were dead and the husbands missing in Tallahassee, Florida a month apart. It could be a serial but it could also just be two men who murdered their families and ran.

The tall, mocha skinned man pushed back from the kitchen table, unplugged his laptop, and went into the living room.

On the couch lay a dozing Reid. The TV was on quietly but Reid was slouched against the armrest, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open just a bit.

As quietly as he could, Morgan put his laptop away. However, as silent as the older man tried to be, he still managed to wake his younger friend up.

Reid sat straight up like a shot, breathing like he had just run a race. His eyes were alert and darted around quickly, looking for a non-existent attacker.

"Relax, man," Morgan said in what he hoped was a calming voice as he crouched down into a nonthreatening posture. "You're fine, Reid. It's just you and me and my lazy lump of a dog."

The poor, terrified man set his gaze on Morgan and blinked several times.

"You ok, Reid?" the concerned man asked his friend in a tone similar to one you would use with an injured or scared animal.

Reid blinked a few more times and shook his head to clear it of the last vestiges of the horrifying images that had come to mind when he abruptly woke.

"You ok, kid?" Morgan repeated gently.

"Yeah, fine," Reid mumbled with another shake of his head.

"Bad dream?" he inquired.

"Can't remember," Reid brushed the question off.

"I was thinking about grilling out tonight," Morgan commented as he flopped down in the arm chair next to the couch. "I got a steak the other day. Figured we could cut that in half, make some vegetables and potatoes, have some beer."

"Sounds good," Reid agreed without much enthusiasm.

There was a pause before the skinny brunette asked, "Do you mind if I use your computer some time later?"

"Sure, man," his friend nodded. "Mind if I ask why?"

"I need to figure out how I'm going to go get my mom," he answered. "I can't fly since I had surgery and she wouldn't fly anyway. I was going to look up how much a bus or train ticket would cost."

"Why not drive?" Morgan wondered aloud.

"Uh, I have a broken leg…" Reid gave his friend a look. "I can't drive."

"Duh, Pretty Boy," he chuckled. "I'll be doing to driving. You will be sitting there, keeping me company."

"You don't have to come with me," Reid said as he quirked his eyebrow in confusion. "It's not your responsibility."

"Never said it was," Morgan replied, "but I'm still not taking no for an answer. A bus or train ticket is gonna run you at least a couple hundred each way on such short notice for such a long distance. It'll be cheaper to drive plus you'll be able to take more of your mom's stuff back with us."

"I can't ask you to drive 2,443 miles from here to my mother just so I won't have to spend as much money," the very independent man argued.

"You didn't ask," was all Morgan had to say. "We can leave on Friday. I'll get a map off the internet later."

"I've always taken care of my mom by myself. I don't need anybody's help," Reid snapped finally.

"Look, Kid," Morgan huffed in frustration. "I get that you're used to doing stuff on your own because you didn't have anyone else to help you but you do now, ok? How do you think that you are going to get around on a train or a bus when you can barely walk right now? How are you going to carry your suitcase or your mom's stuff?"

Reid was silent. Every single thing Morgan said was true. He never accepted help easily. When his dad left, it became clear that he could only rely on himself for anything. Over the years, he had slowly become a bit more accepting of help but it was still hard. All of the help he needed now, though, was very hard for him to feel ok with and now he needed an even bigger thing done for him.

"See, you couldn't," the nearly middle aged man pointed out when his friend didn't answer. "Come on man, I don't mind helping you out. I've always wanted to do a cross-country trip, anyway."

"It's not going to be a normal trip," Reid pointed out. "You are going to have to put up with the ramblings of a paranoid schizophrenic who probably won't trust you because you work for the government."

"I can deal with that, man," Garcia's chocolate Adonis brushed off. "And I'm used to rambling. I'm friends with you."

He finished off the comment with a cheeky grin, hoping that it would get his friend to smile just a bit but it was in vain. Reid just looked down at his feet, not saying a word.

"It was a joke, man," Morgan explained, ticked off with himself for hurting his friend's feelings. "I wish I knew half the stuff that you've managed to fit into your head."

"Yeah, I know," Reid said. "It's just…I don't like being compared to my mother. I love her but..."

"I didn't mean that I thought that you act like you are schizophrenic, Reid," Morgan told his friend. "You just tend to ramble sometimes and when you said ramblings…"

"Don't worry about it, Morgan," the pale skinned brunette reiterated. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

There was silence for a moment before Reid changed the subject, very ready to get his mind off of the sad reality of his potential to develop schizophrenia.

"You said something about grilling?"


End file.
